The Power Within
by scheiGuy
Summary: "Man, kid – it's not about what kind of power you've got, or even if you've got any at all – it's about the power within. It's about the power and purity of your soul. And you-" the man paused, raising his index to me. "You've got all the power in the world." PeetaxCato. Rated M for later chapters. AU with superpowers unique to the individual. How will the world be saved?
1. The Mom, The Man, and The Moon

**A/N:** Hey guys. This is my second HG Peeto fic, and I'm really excited about this one. It starts off incredibly fast - I've got so many ideas for this project I just wanna head straight into them sometimes. Everything's slowly being edited to make this story a little bit more appealing.

For an example, this story can be kinda compared to the animated series Avatar, kinda compared to X-Men, shit like that. I'll try to make each character's personality as similar to the original series as possible, unlike my HS fic, which seems to be getting a whole lot more attention than this. I think this has vast potential, and I've always loved animes/sci-fis/fantasy things, so, here it goes.

Rue, Haymitch, Cato, Clove, Glimmer, Marvel, Finnick, quite possibly Gale, and a whole lot of other people will be making their appearances soon. Do your best to stay with me, and I'll do my best to please you.

**_DISCLAIMER:_ **I do not own the Hunger Games series, plots, or characters by any means - that goes for all my chapters and stories on this site 'cause I'll be too lazy and forgetful to remember to put this elsewhere. I'd clearly make Cato and Peeta do it, so, there you go.

**Please review, and enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter One**: _The Mom, The Man, and The Moon_

_"Come here, Peeta!" the woman exclaimed. The two-year-old made his way to his mother, whose soft, golden-colored hair flew gracefully back and forth with the wind, occasionally obstructing her face. She wore a smile, a smile whose otherworldly glow could only be compared to that of the sun's, though it was infinitely more approachable. Peeta held out his hands to meet the woman's, who swiftly picked him up and swung him around a few times, in full circles, before holding him tightly to her chest, protecting him with her love. She looked down to her giggling toddler. "You are more special than you know, baby. One day you will do great things with your life." She paused. "Amazing things." She kissed his forehead, as if it were to be the last time. "I love you so much, Peeta."_

Peeta's thoughts were clouded with distant memories as he examined the only photograph of his mother he possessed. Her right hand tugs at her flowing yellow hair, placing it on the back of her ear, as the other holds a gorgeous tan sun hat right above her waist. She's got a smile that's blinding. Her sapphire-colored marbles are looking directly at him, making it feel like she's there in person, her essence forever contained within this picture, within his hands. He flipped it over. On the back of the photograph a few sentences were written, seemingly perfect:

_Whenever you are alone, Peeta, look to the moon. I will always be there for you – wherever you are, wherever I am. Remember: you are forever loved._

_-Mom_

He's done this more times than he can count: played with this picture, as he does whenever he's feeling down. It's been thirteen years since that day…thirteen years since he last saw his beautiful mother. She died shortly after that memory, Peeta thinks. There had been a terrible car accident, and she didn't make it. His father never got over that loss, though he had remarried – and to a witch of a woman, no less. _Dad knows he'll never find someone like her again_, Peeta thought. And it was true – Lily was the only person of her kind: infinitely intelligent, kind as a rose is beautiful, and stunning to gaze upon. She gave George three sons: their oldest, Loochi, who was twenty, and practically co-ran the bakery alongside his father; Cross, who had turned eighteen not too long ago, and dreamed of being a stone mason; and Peeta, their youngest, who was probably most like their mother in appearance and personality: brilliantly oceanic eyes, dirty-blonde hair, kind and sweet.

He often got pushed around by his brutish brothers for being so passive. It wasn't that he was afraid to stand up for himself – mostly it wasn't that – it was that he hadn't seen the use in fighting, physically, when everything, he believed, could be settled with calmness and a logical conversation. His brothers thought otherwise, and frequently tried to beat some "sense" into him when he was younger. They gave up when he was around eleven. Peeta was deemed "a lost cause."

He placed his mother back onto his nightstand, but not before he gave her a brief kiss. He didn't need to tear up about this, once again. He was nearly sixteen-years-old, and maybe his brothers were right: being a man means you show no emotion. _That's practically the only thing I can do_... Peeta shook his head, ridding himself of the all-too common and dampening thoughts that plagued him from time-to-time. _I'm better than this. I'm more special than I-_

"Peeta!" A shrill voice plowed its way through the house, originating from downstairs. "Get down here. _Now!"_

"Yes, Maybelle!" Peeta yelled, trying not to sound as irritated as he was upon hearing the under-worldly sound. He threw himself off of his bed, and slipped on his socks and shoes – normally one wouldn't do this to simply talk with another, but when Maybelle chose to speak to Peeta, it often resulted in some sort of argument which sprang forth from nowhere, and often led to a beating and, ultimately, an escape. He was used to it.

He ran down the flight of stairs before catching sight of his father, with short brown hair and defeated, swollen eyes. No one said it, but everyone knew – Maybelle beat her husband. She wasn't threatening in stature or anything, George just couldn't bring himself to defend himself – to forcibly hurt his wife. He was too kind for that. Maybelle, on the other hand, had no quarrels with the matter – she was used to being in control, no matter how she obtained and retained it. It's been this way for eleven years. Why his father chose this ghastly woman, Peeta didn't know. He figured his father feared that deadly wave of darkness named loneliness. _I'd take that over Maybelle any day_, Peeta thought.

Peeta's eyes finally touched upon Maybelle's form. Bouncy black curls came down to her shoulders, in almost too-perfect-to-be rings. She always wore a beautifully-made blouse, which harshly clashed with her destructive personality – tonight a blue one, covered in snow-white Dahlia flowers that came down to her mid-shins. Her coal-black eyes, filled with fury as they often were, penetrated his whole body, freezing it mid-descent. Peeta looked to the steps before continuing, walking over to the _blissfully-_wedded pair, and stopped three feet in front of them. He brought up his eyes to meet Maybelle's – she was as tall as Peeta was, about 5'7" – when he noticed the bread paddle in her hands. She noticed his noticing, and quickly threw her hands behind her back before speaking.

"Peeta, your father and I would like to talk with you," she began, unusually calm. Peeta's mind began to race with what he could have done wrong within the past few days. _Is this about that bread I burned the other day? I didn't think it was such a big deal. At least the pigs got to eat. Or is this about my birthday? I'd rather spend it alone. Or with Dad._ Maybelle looked to her husband, giving him permission to speak.

"Son, we wanted to know if...anything...odd has been going on with you. Changes with your body? Anything you can't explain?" the man asked, talking with his hands. He looked concerned, like he wouldn't be able to handle what his son was about to say, regardless of what it really was.

Peeta cocked his head sideways, and shook it, before letting out a simple "What?" Puberty first came to mind, and even though Peeta couldn't fully explain it himself, he knew science could, so that was out of the question. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Maybelle grunted, picked up her right foot, and slammed it onto the ground before looking to her husband. "See, George? I told you he was completely useless." She locked eyes with Peeta, eyes void of softness versus those made of cotton. "A total. Waste. Of space," she enunciated. "I should have known better than to hold some sort of hope with you," she said as she brought back the paddle from her back, pointing it at Peeta accusingly.

"May, it could still happen. He's not even sixteen," Peeta's father tried to reassure her, placing a hand sheepishly on her shoulder, almost afraid of it catching fire. She shrugged it off.

"No, George! This boy does nothing but sulk about his long-dead trashcan of a mother," Maybelle stated. This was not the smartest move the woman had ever made. Peeta clenched his fists and took a few steps forward.

"Take that back," he threatened. He didn't know what he would, or could, do to this monster. But he couldn't let that slide, never. He looked to his father, who shook his head in defeat. Peeta's eyes began to water.

"Or what, little boy?" Maybelle teased. "Gonna burn all my bread?" She raised an eyebrow, and smirked, challenging him. Peeta's face grew hot and red with rage – he's been angry before, but nothing like this. No one's ever insulted his mother before, at least not to his face. And why would they? Peeta felt one of his shaking fists rise, ready to strike, only for it to come down seconds later. Hot water ran down his cheeks as his lips and chin unconsciously trembled.

"Burn in hell, you_ bitch_," Peeta let out, voice slightly cracking. He made his way through the living room, reached the front door, and exited the house before he'd allow himself to get beat, too. He ran, going nowhere in particular, in the dark, with nothing but the shadows of the nightlife and the gleam of the moon and stars to keep him company. He came upon the supposedly electrified fence, the fence he and Katniss would frequently cross whenever they could, before coming to a stop. I'm so sorry, Dad. I wish I was strong enough for the both of us. I wish I could do something. I wish I could help. He lifted his head up and gazed at that beautiful yin-yang of a sphere in the sky, playing with the beautifully-crafted sterling silver charm bracelet his mother left him, tugging on it for support.

_You are forever loved._

Peeta smiled. _Thank you, mom_. He brought up his sleeve to rub at his eyes and nose, and fanned at his eyes, before maneuvering himself through the hole in the supposedly-electrified fence. He was sure Katniss would be waiting for him, as she usually was. He didn't want her to worry. Peeta walked the path he had walked many times – swatting away tree branches, almost tripping over vines on the ground – when he finally came to their spot. Much like he had expected, Katniss was there, waiting. Only, she wasn't as stoic as usual. She was hunched over by a tree trunk, in a ball, knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. _Crying...?_ Peeta stood there for a minute, waiting for a change, before breaking the silence.

"Katniss?" he questioned, softly. She looked up suddenly, water and fear covering her beautiful grey eyes, as well as the rest of her face. She pushed herself off the ground, slowly, then ran into her best friends arms, sobbing.

"Peeta..." she let out. Peeta felt the rise and fall of her body against his as she cried, not knowing what had happened or what to do. He softly played with her hair and rubbed her back in a soothing motion, trying to calm her down.

"Katniss, what's going on?" he said as he grabbed her arms and pushed her, slightly, in front of him so they could speak. She was still whimpering. Peeta took his sleeve and wiped at her cheeks. That seemed to give her the strength she needed to begin.

"They took my family, Peeta," she let out, beginning to cry again. "They took both of them!" she yelled in a rage. "I only barely managed to get away-"

"Slow down, Katniss!" Peeta grabbed Katniss's hands, which were slowly coming to cover her face, and put them down to her side. "Who's they? And why did they take your mom and Prim?" Katniss shook her head and turned her back to Peeta. She walked toward the tree she was recently huddled beside and took in a deep breath. She turned her head slightly, only giving Peeta a side glance.

"Promise you won't freak out?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Of course, my 'lady friend'," Peeta let out with a smile. Maybelle once called Katniss that when she accused the two of them of dating. They weren't, of course. She chuckled, then sighed. She walked toward him again, Peeta's eyes never leaving her form, and knelt down to the ground, beside a puddle. She motioned for him to kneel too.

"Here goes," she let out, before bringing her right hand, palm up, to rest right beneath her chin. Her mouth formed a small "o" as she exhaled. Tiny crystals flew from her mouth in a graceful stream of wind, making their way to the puddle, which had now become frozen. Peeta's eyes grew wide with fascination, as he stood up and put his hands in the air.

"Katniss… What…?" he questioned, fearfully. "What did you just do?" He slowly backed away from her, unsure of what he'd just seen.

"Peeta!" Tears quickly began to form in her eyes again at the thought of her best and only friend disowning her. She got up to meet him. Peeta only backed up further, when his heel met a vine, and fell to the earth, tumbling down the uneven hill. His body was gaining momentum as leaves and mud covered his person. Before his body came to a stop his right leg came across a sharp twig, gashing it open and jamming itself into place. He laid there for a moment, collecting himself, when Katniss came sliding down the hill to help him.

"I'm so sorry, Peet'," she whispered as she inspected him. "I shouldn't have showed you. Oh God, that twig..." Her hands cautiously hovered above the wound, unsure of what to do. Peeta looked up at her, not caring about his injury. He knew he over-reacted.

"No, Kat, that's my fault," he smiled. "I was just a little startled, okay?" Katniss smiled then. They both looked down at the piece of wood lodged in Peeta's thigh, shaking their heads.

"I'm gonna have to remove it. Stay still," Katniss warned. Peeta tightly gripped the mud around him for support, as Katniss counted down. "3... 2... 1..." _Yank._

"Ah, God damn it!" Peeta screamed. A blood spout had formed, and was slowly emptying the red, warm liquid from Peeta's thigh onto his clothes and the ground. He noticed Katniss about to cry again, so he covered the wet spot with both of his hands. He winced at the pain. "It's nothing, really. I'll be fine," he lied. It was a pretty deep gash. Peeta threw his head back, applying pressure. "Damn it... Could this night get any better?" he chuckled.

What happened next was more than unexpected. A faint, heavenly glow was being emitted from the young man's hands that covered the bloody hole. Peeta and Katniss couldn't tear their eyes from the sight as the pain slowly drained from Peeta's body. After the light had dissipated, Peeta slowly lifted his hands up from the spot, and gasped in bewilderment. The gash was nowhere to be seen.

"Peeta!" Katniss exclaimed, a huge smile gracing her features as she looked to Peeta's face, then back to his leg, then back to his face again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Peeta shook his head slowly, not sure what to think of the situation. "Katniss, I-I really don't know what just happened." He looked from his leg to her face. "This is the first time I've ever done this kind of-"

The kids' joy was only short-lived, as red, white and blue rotating lights came into view, lighting lit up the darkness. _Wee, woo, wee, woo_. The light, the noise, was coming from-

"A hovercraft?" Katniss asked. Peeta shook his head, for what felt like the millionth time that day, in confusion. _Hovercrafts actually exist? What's it doing in the middle of the woods?_ Before being able to think more on the manner, his thoughts were interrupted by a stern man's voice, amplified by a megaphone.

"Katniss Everdeen. Peeta Mellark. You two have been caught in the act of performing...illegalities, and are hereby arrested and to be taken to The Capitol for further questioning." He paused, waiting for some sort of response. None was given. "Put your hands in the air and do not make a move." The two teenagers did as they were told, not wanting to jeopardize their lives as two more hovercrafts found their way to the scene.

Well, one of them, anyway.

As the main hovercraft slowly approached them, Katniss turned her head to the left, locking eyes with Peeta. She smirked. Peeta shook his head, knowing what she was planning to do. She only held the devilish smile, as she turned to the hovercraft now only two feet away, swiftly brought her hand to her face like she had done with the puddle, and blew. In a matter of seconds the hovercraft was frozen in place, covered in a veil of cold ice, and fell to the ground with a large booming sound.

"_Run!_" Peeta yelled. He grabbed onto Katniss's jacket and the two began to sprint in the opposite direction. Branches flew past their heads as they picked up speed, knowing if they were caught it would be the end of them. Peeta's lungs soon felt like they were placed over his bread oven, burning from overuse. He turned to look behind him, the two remaining crafts still on their tails. Worried, Peeta attempted to pick up the pace, only to catch another vine, and meet face first with the ground. Katniss stopped in her tracks and came to his side.

"What are you doing?" Peeta yelled. "You need to go!" Katniss shook her head, trying to untangle his ankle. Peeta pushed her off of him. "I said leave! Now!" Katniss got up, smiled sadly, and left Peeta to his own. The two hovercrafts finally caught up to him, coming to a stop right before him.

"Looks like you're all alone now, little boy," one of the megaphones blurted out. A woman's voice. Peeta ripped his ankle from the vine in fury, angered by the similarly used nickname, his step-mother coming to mind. He stood up, solid as a rock, ready for whatever they had planned for him. The two hovercrafts, and Peeta, stayed put, unsure of what to do next.

"Why isn't he using his power?" the hovercraft on his right let out, not on the megaphone, but still an audible, ignorant whisper.

"Maybe he doesn't have one," the other thought out loud. "Either way, he has to be taken in." The two crafts slowly approached, when all of a sudden they also became riddled with solid water, thunking to the ground. Katniss came into view.

"God, they're dumb. And so are you. You really thought I'd leave you here?" She smiled. "Come on." They ran, hand-in-hand now, for what seemed like hours. It could have been minutes, neither one knows. All they knew now was that nothing in their lives would ever be the same. Lives full of uncertainty. So many questions to be answered. The thought of never seeing his dad again pained Peeta, down to his core. Suddenly, a whistle boomed through the air.

"That must be the freight train!" Peeta exclaimed in joy. "We need to hurry if we're gonna make it." The two picked up their pace, and finally exited the thick forest. The sight of a rusty, vandalized cargo crate was surely welcomed. Peeta came upon the handle of the door, swung it to his left with his right hand, and threw Katniss inside. He jumped in after her, rolling around in the hay. One more final whistle and the train began to move, wheels screeching in the night. Peeta slammed the door shut.

"We made it," Katniss panted. "I can't believe we made it." She held her head in her hands, body slumped against the back wall. Peeta got up and looked around, eliminating the possibility of a hobo eavesdropping on their conversation. After checking every square inch of the box, he sat down on a bundle of hay, and sighed.

"What the hell just happened, Katniss..." Peeta let out in disbelief. "One minute my dad's asking me about my 'bodily changes,' and the next we're being chased by-" Peeta didn't finish his sentence. A thought occurred. Katniss looked to him from her hands and cocked her head. Peeta stood up and paced some more. "Changes... He asked me if there was anything going on that I couldn't explain," Peeta thought out loud. "He knew this was going to happen! He knew!" he exclaimed before sitting himself down by Katniss – a confused Katniss.

"Peeta, I think he was just talking about puberty. It's about that time, isn't it?" Katniss logically explained, nudging his shoulder with hers.

"No, that's what I thought at first, but there's no way... He was saying- And then Maybelle got angry when!-" Peeta stumbled on his thoughts. "And then she called my mom _trash!_" Peeta screamed in a whimper, head falling into his lap, sobbing. _Mom, I could really use your help right about now_. Katniss brought her chest to Peeta's back, comforting him.

"Sh, sh. It's okay, Peet'," she let out. "Let's just forget all this shit happened for now and get some sleep while we can. All right?" She rubbed his back in circles. Peeta wiped at his eyes and sighed.

"All right."

The two of them found several different bundles of hay to lie upon, crafting two makeshift beds out of the crunchy material. They lay, side by side, attempting to drift off into a much-needed sleep when Katniss spoke.

"Peeta?" she asked, simply.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think..." She paused. "We're gonna make it out of this mess...alive?" Genuine fear and uncertainty plagued her voice, making it crack when speaking the final word. Peeta thought for a few moments, not sure whether to lie or not. He wasn't sure either, but something deep down inside told him they would. His sight met the brown ceiling. He spoke with finality.

"We don't have a choice."

A few hours had passed when the train finally came to a halt. Peeta and Katniss lay quietly asleep, not aware of the sudden change in movement. The sun's rays breaking their way through the crate's wooden door caught Peeta's face, playfully tugging at his consciousness. He rolled onto his side before opening his eyes. It was light out, but not too light. He guessed it must be around six or seven AM. He wasn't fully awake yet.

The sound of an old man's voice surely changed that.

"Unload the shit from that one, mate. I'll get this one," he said as he slowly approached Peeta's and Katniss's box. Peeta's eye shot open in fear as he shook Katniss awake.

"Katniss, get up!" he shouted in a whisper. She grunted and rolled onto her side, facing away from Peeta. "We're about to get our asses caught!" Katniss jumped up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Well, shit," she eloquently let out. Peeta scanned the area for some place to hide. Surely the man couldn't carry out all that was in this crate in one go. He spotted a large wooden box in the far left corner, grabbed Katniss and ran behind it, as the door came sliding open. Peeta peeked from the side to watch as the man grabbed a few bundles of hay before leaving the site. Peeta crept to the door, looking both ways before jumping out, realizing how stiff his body had become from sleeping on a bundle of horse feed.

"Time to go."

The two teens walked the sandy roads, out of the ghost town they had arrived in.

"Peeta, where exactly are we going?" Katniss asked after they walked for two hours in silence. She looked to Peeta who gave no response. "You don't know, do you?"

"Katniss, how am I supposed to know? I don't know everything! I've never been outside of our neighborhood before!" Peeta yelled, snarling at her.

"I'm sorry."

Peeta came to a stop and shook his head. "Don't be," he sighed. "I'm just...I'm worried. We're in the middle of nowhere. We've got no food. We've got no water. It's as hot as my kitchen during summer time-"

At that moment he felt a chill come over him. He looked to his side to see Katniss blowing on him – not freezing him, just cooling him down. He sighed in relief. "Thanks."

"I've been doing that to my arms for awhile now. I think I'm getting the hang of it, but it's exhausting," she explained.

"No more then. We've gotta keep walking."

The two quickened their pace. They walked for hours. They seemed to be in some sort of desert – hills of never-ending sand surrounded them everywhere they looked. The sun was slowly frying their bodies, their brains, and their spirits.

"Peeta..." Katniss panted out. "I can't go much further." Peeta looked behind him, catching sight of her body collapsing to the soft, blistering ground.

"Katniss!" He ran over to her, moving the sweaty hair out of her face. She was unconscious. Peeta picked her up, carrying her bride-style before walking again. He looked down to her.

"We'll make it out of here. I promise."

He kept walking, the added weight of Katniss clearly slowing him down, and adding to his fatigue. Another hour went by before he threw her over his shoulder, deciding this was a much more efficient way of passage.

More walking. Peeta felt like he was going insane. Little, sharp needles were pricking every part of his body, unrelenting, laughing at his weakness. At least that's what it felt like. He was running on sheer willpower now, all the water in his body now on top of his salty skin. He began hallucinating: seeing Maybelle with her paddle twenty feet away, smacking it onto her other hand dangerously; his dad with those defeated eyes, but kind smile; his mom with her beautiful golden hair dancing in the wind. Soon after he, too, collapsed, Katniss' body flying from his arms, down to his left side.

Peeta began to crawl toward his mother. "_Come here, Peeta!_" she seemed to mouth. With all that was left in him he crawled, and crawled. He had almost made it to her before going under, his vision tunneling, the sight of his mom the last for some time. His head hit the sand.

"I'm so sorry, Momma..."


	2. Tribute Station, District Number Twelve

**A/N:** Gah! I'm so sorry you guys. Between my piece of crapola computer dying, work, life, etc., it's been super hard to get back into writing like before. I had a much better version of this chapter sorta ready, but… you know how it goes. I'm sorry about the hiatus, and the short-for-my-standards chapter, but I felt like I should at least get this one free for you patient souls. Enjoy!

**Chapter Two:** _Tribute Station, District Number Twelve_

_My eyes are closed, tightly shut, as if they were bound my scotch tape, hidden from the light of day. Though my sight may be out of play, clearly my other senses aren't – I can _feel everything. _The warm rays of the sun, devouring my exposed skin, caressing it, slowly traveling up my body, shins to skull, as it rises to signify the beginning of a new day. My disheveled hair playfully sways with the cool wind, never once stilling in action, as my clothes mimic the motions. _

_I feel perfectly calm… I'm at peace with this world. I revel in this newfound glory. I've never felt anything quite like it. _

_Though, it's short-lived._

_My two feet dangle in midair, struggling to reach some sort of ground, only to find none. _Am I…floating? _I begin to panic – I don't fear much, but being suspended in the air without any sort of vision terrifies me. I kick, back and forth, when I hear a voice – a woman's voice._

"_It's all right, Peeta," she says. At that instant I'm completely soothed, any sort of dread being released from my body. My breathing becomes relaxed again. _Who is this woman?

"_You know who it is. It's me, honey." _No. It can't be.

"_Mom?" I let out, almost coming to slap myself for being so foolish. My mom is dead. I'll never get to speak with her again._

"_Yes, Peeta," she sighs. I try opening my eyes, only to receive more darkness. Though I can't see her, I can feel the smile she's wearing. So effervescent, like from her picture, it's contagious, and I soon find myself wearing one as well. Tears begin to flow down my cheeks._

"_How…? Why?" I have so many questions for her. Even if it's not her, if this is my own mind's creation of the woman I once called mother, I know she can help me._

"_I know you have questions that need answers, and don't worry, you will get them. Right now is not the time, nor the place. I can't stay for long."_

"_What? How can you say that? You expect me to be okay with you whisking away after a minute's conversation?" I'm furious. I don't want to be, I just want to spend so much time with her. I've felt so alone ever since her departure from my life. "How could you!" _

"_I'm so sorry, Peeta. Leaving you was the hardest decision I've ever made in my life. I can't regret it, since it's kept you alive and safe since."_

"_But not happy." _Wait. _"Did you just say you _chose_ to leave me? Leave our family?!"_

"_Peeta, listen to me. When you wake a new journey will begin – a journey you were destined to take. You will be surrounded by friends, old and new. Learn with them, fight with them, love with them. Do you remember when I said you were more special than you knew?"_

_I wipe at my eyes, and force the snot back up my nostrils. "Yes."_

"_Now's the time, my son. You will save the world from the evil that plagues it. It will be the hardest thing you have ever done, but just remember this: You are forever loved. I am so proud of you, Peeta." I can tell she's begun to cry. She holds back a few sobs, before saying her final statement and leaving me, her voice trailing way. "I love you…"_

"_No! Wait!"_

"Mom…" I sigh, once again reaching consciousness, my eyelids fluttering open. My head throbs as I take in my first breath, forcing my eyes close again, my hand making its way to message my temples. _That was one hell of a dream… That couldn't really have been her, could it?_

"Hey. I think this one's awake," a man's voice booms out. I open my eyes again to catch sight of him, sitting beside my bed. Bright golden hair, the same color as my mother's, only spiked and jetted out to oblivion; dark, mud-colored eyes scanning my own, though they seem to be almost hardened – with strength? Or pain? He's got a scar that runs diagonally across his face, starting in the upper left quadrant of his forehead, grazing over the point of where his eyebrows would meet if they were but one, and ending near the middle of his left nostril. _How'd that get there? _To say the least, he is extremely attractive. He can't be much older than I am. I'm guessing a year or two.

"If you ask me how I got this scar, I _will_ punch you," he says, tactfully, scrunching up his face, setting me aflame with his eyes.

I was definitely thinking about it, but I knew I didn't have the balls to ask. I shake my head. "No, I wasn't…going to-"

"Good," he interrupts, as he gets up and leaves my side. _Well, physically attractive anyway. _My eyes follow his path, with those broad shoulders, and come across an older man of about 45 years, as is apparent with his facial wrinkles. His long, dirty-blonde hair comes down to his shoulders, but not before two sets of bangs partially cover the right and left sides of his face, barely leaving his eyes to be seen. He speaks with Mr. Spiky Attitude for a few seconds before turning his attention to me. I rise up in my bed, preparing myself for whatever is to come. _Mom had to be real. She was right about all of this so far. _Mr. Wrinkles makes his way to my bed, but not before stumbling into a nurse, and subsequently apologizing and catching a view of her rear end.

_Who the fuck _are_ these people?_

"Mornin' stranger," he greets me, patting me on the shoulder. _Why couldn't I wake to that? _He sits down beside me, slightly hunching over. "How're you feelin'?"

"All right, I guess," I answer, scratching the back of my head. "Quite the charmer you got over there," I say, motioning my head to the boy who recently accosted me. He catches my glance, watching from a distance with his arms crossed, before quickly turning away.

"Who, Cato?" He also looks back. _Interesting name for an interesting guy._ "Yeah, he's not the warmest person in the world." He pauses and looks to me again. "But he'll grow on ya. Before we get into all these questions I'm sure you've got, I think introductions are in order." He grabs the chart at the foot of my bed, grabbing the pen from the top, ready to write. "Name? We can't call you John Doe for the rest of your life, can we?"

"Right…" I think out loud, looking down to my lap. _What's my name again? Oh. _I look back up. "Peeta Mellark."

"Peeta…" He begins writing, then stops. His head slowly comes up from the piece of paper, a look of shock coming over him. He sits there, examining my face, cocking his head back and forth like I admitted to being Jesus Christ or something.

"Um. What?" I ask, confused.

"Did you say…Mellark? Like George and Lily Mellark?"

"Yes!" I exclaim, a little too loudly probably, but I was excited. "Do you know my parents? Well…I guess the proper term would be 'do' for my dad, and 'did' for my mother. Or who knows, might be 'did' for both of them by now…"

The man sighs. He clearly knew them, or at least one of them, to have made that connection. "Mellark" isn't the most common name in the world, nor is it the least common, but I'm sure there aren't too many George and Lily pairings in the Yellow Pages. "I'm sure your dad's all right, kid. He's a tough guy," he assures me. He begins writing again. "So, Mr. Mellark. What brings you to the middle of the Saroo Desert?" _We were in the___middle _of a _desert? I tell him everything, excluding the fact we have some sort of superpower – I don't even know who these people are. I tell him of the fight I had with Maybelle, which I'd be glad to never see again; about the forest, being ambushed by several hovercrafts; about Katniss and I on the train-

"Where's Katniss?" I let out in a hurried tone. I'm ashamed I haven't thought of her sooner. I was supposed to protect her, but it looks like I've failed this time.

"Ah, Ms. Everdeen. She's pretty damn good, actually. Woke up yesterday, practically beating the crap out of everyone here." I smile. _That sounds like Katniss._ "She's said you two have only known about your powers for a day before collapsing in that city of sand. Yet she's got mighty fine control over hers."

"Wait, so you know about us? About…what we can do?" I'm hesitant to ask, fearful of his response. Is this some sort of government facility, ready to cut us open like dead toads?

He slowly nods, not looking away from that damned piece of paper. "Yes, yes I do." He looks at me for the first time in a few minutes, seriously. "Kid, everyone here is in the same boat as you are." I scan the area as he continues speaking. "Runaways, confused souls, helpers for the cause." He sets my chart back down and stands up. "Can you walk?"

I shrug. "I can try." I pull my legs over the left side of my bed. I wince when they reach the cold concrete below. _That'll wake you up. _I push off myself off with my arms and walk over to… _Wait, what's his name? _"Sir, can I get your name? Can't call you Mr. Wrinkles for the rest of my life, can I?"

He ruffles my hair as we begin to walk. "Way to make a man feel old, kid. Name's Haymitch Abernathy. I run this joint of misfits." By his laid back personality, and the ragged clothes he wears, I wouldn't place him in charge of feeding my pets, let alone who knows how many kids and adults. "And, for all that is right in this world, never call me sir again."

I chuckle before getting into the heavier questions. "Did you know my parents?"

This causes Haymitch to quietly stiffen up, not sure how to respond. He answers simply, "Yes, I knew your mother." He pauses. "She was a remarkable woman."

"You two must have been close," I say, looking down to the grayish-brown concrete below. He says nothing more on the matter.

"Where am I, exactly?"

"This-" He spreads out his arms, wide, smiling just as wide. "This is Tribute Station, District Number Twelve." We continue walking as I take in the sights. The place is buzzing with people, so many different people. Tall, short, skinny, fat, cool hair, no hair, black, white. Every sort of person you could imagine.

"What's a tribute?" I ask, dumbly.

He looks down at me, almost condescendingly, before realizing there's no way I could have possibly known what he was talking about. "A tribute is-" he begins, but cuts himself off. "_We_ are tributes, Peeta. You, me, Cato, Katniss. About 40 years ago, a man by the name of Coriolanus Snow labeled us that way: tributes. He believed this world would be better off without people like ourselves. So, he began speaking, gaining followers, and soon enough he practically had the world at his feet, following his every word."

Chills ran down my spine, just at the very mentioning of his name, and I didn't even know the guy. "You mean President Snow? He wants all of us dead?"

"Right you are, kid. He and his fellow 'Victors,' they call themselves, convinced way too many people across the globe that we were criminals: thieves, killers, you name it. Though, that isn't the case. Everyone has the potential to be a bad guy, not just tributes. Though, to be honest, we're better at it." He grins. "Anyway, he's been wiping us out for decades. And he's close to finally succeeding. There are a few different Tribute Stations scattered across the nation. Currently, we're trying to pull our numbers together – start a rebellion. And that's where you and your friends come in."

I shake my head in despair. "Sorry, Haymitch. But if you haven't heard I can't really do much. As much as I want to help you with your cause, my… power… is sort of useless." I still wasn't used to admitting it, that I had a power, I know I would have to be someday, but... Besides, how would I help, anyway? You can't exactly heal someone to death.

Haymitch stops me in my tracks, grabbing me by the shoulders, and turns my body to face his. He's looking almost too serious, something I would never expect from a man like him. He looks me in the eyes, and speaks, never once blinking. "Peeta, don't sell yourself short. Your gift is one of the most coveted, precious ones out there. One in a million. Billion, maybe." He lets me go, and grunts to himself, turning his back toward me, frustrated he can't find the right words. He turns back. "Man, kid – it's not about what kind of power you've got, or even if you've got any at all – it's about the power within. It's about the power and purity of your soul. And you-" the man paused, raising his index at me. "You've got all the power in the world."


	3. Assignments

**A/N: **All right. So, yeah, I've disappeared for awhile. Everyone knows life gets in the way, as mine has, easily. What are priorities? I couldn't tell ya. But. After beta-ing a friend's first two chapters I couldn't help but continue on with my own. I'm sorry to those of you who've been waiting for my updates (the few of you), they're sporadic and unreliable. Which, honestly, they might continue to be. But, nonetheless, here's the 3rd chapter of this story. Now that both of my stories have reached the same time in their progression I'll update one, then the other, and so forth. Hope you guys enjoy. Reviews are lovely.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_Assignments_

"_Whoa!_" I let out as I side-step an uppercut – but only just barely. "Can we just-" another, this time to my left. "Take a-" I curve my spine, dipping myself backwards as I dodge a roundhouse kick. I wouldn't be surprised if my body came to a 90-degree angle by that point. I bring myself back up, breathing heavily, hands on my knees while hunching over, putting on my best puppy dog eyes. "Break?" I pant. The guy in front of me only crosses his arms, looking down on me – physically and mentally. I don't give in, and pout my lips. "_Please?_" I draw out, my lips slightly trembling for added effect.

Cato sighs and relaxes his stance, his arms dropping to his sides. "Fine. But you know if you get caught on the field you won't have any way to defend yourself," he advises, pointing a finger at me.

"Oh, thank God." At once I forget exactly how to stand, and let my body collapse to the hard dirt ground. I immediately regret it and wince at the pain my butt receives, tiredly. Cato just laughs, picks up two nearby water bottles and joins me.

It's been like this for days now – constant physical training, for me anyway. It's true what Cato said: I'm entirely defenseless, no offensive power, like I've told Haymitch over and over again. My only option is hand-to-hand combat now, but I don't feel all that useful – though I don't have a choice, do I? These missions we're being sent on…how can I contribute?

"You're not that bad," Cato says before he takes a couple of sips of water. "There's been a good amount of improvement since your first day," he continues. "You've got the best evasive technique I've seen in a while." I raise an eyebrow at him as he realizes his mistake.

"Did you just pay me a compliment?" I ask, grinning almost maniacally.

"Yeah, well don't get used to it. You can only dodge shit. You're a shrimp of a munchkin. It's no wonder, really." Classic Cato.

"I'd rather be a munchkin than a raging hulk." I still hold that smile to myself as I chug the water. Cato isn't nearly as insufferable as I first thought – maybe first impressions aren't everything. He makes me laugh when I don't want to, even if he doesn't try. _Not like he ever _has_ tried. Right?_

"You should really start focusing on your ability a bit more. When's the last time you used it?" he asks, changing the subject and turning his head to me. I look up to the sky and think, and realize it's been awhile – and only once.

"Since the first time I ever have, I guess." I look back to him. "I don't really know how to. I've tried a couple of times but…it's harder than it looks." He nods and finds an interesting speck of dirt on the ground to look at. I wave of curiosity washes over me, and before I ask myself whether or not I should, I ask him: "What can you do?"

His eyes lock with mine, face blank. Was it that intrusive to know? We're all here for the same reason, aren't we? "I'm sorry, it's just we've been sparring for a while and I've never seen-"

At that instant his gaze turns to his right hand, as he snaps his middle finger and thumb together, a tiny ember emerges, hovering in his palm, peacefully. I can't bring myself to look away – I'm entranced. It's beautiful, and warm, and inviting…Come to think of it, nothing like Cato, actually. One out of three maybe. I'd hate to see what he can do with it when he's pissed…which is most of the time.

I notice I've been staring for far too long and haven't said anything. "It's beautiful," I say quietly. He scoffs and immediately closes his hand, suffocating the tiny flame until it disappears from sight.

"Not all the time," he mumbles, to himself I think, but I still catch it. I open my mouth to ask him what he means, before his face lights up, with a clearly genius idea. "I've got an idea," he says as he looks at me. _No kidding. _"For you to practice." I look at him blankly as he shifts his body towards mine, blinking a few times in confusion. "Promise not to freak out?" he asks me. I shake my head, not knowing what to say. "I'm trusting you."

With that, I freak out.

Cato brings his left hand to wrap tightly around his right wrist. I look on, still confused as ever. He takes a deep breath before something unthinkable, for me anyway, happens. Steam begins to rise from the enclosed skin. Cato begins to wince in pain. I then figure out what he's doing.

"Cato! _Stop!_" I yell, adrenaline rushing from my glands as I quickly stand up. "You're hurting yourself!" He laughs between his winces as he looks up at me. A few seconds later he removes his hand, revealing the burnt skin underneath – the raw, charred skin.

"Heal me," he says nonchalantly.

I begin to squeal at his request. "But I can't! I don't know how!"

He winces again, catches my wrist and brings me back down to his level, looking me square in the eyes. "You don't have a choice now," he lets out, stern, matter-of-factly. "Do you wanna be responsible for this or what?" I shake my head, tears flying from my face before he catches my chin, stopping me. "Please," he says softly. He brings both my hands to hover over his wrist, the skin now bubbling. "Concentrate."

I close my eyes in disbelief: why would he do this to me? _I can't do it. It's too difficult._ I look back to his wrist again and feel a pang of guilt, and hope, rush through me. _What do I do? I don't… I don't want to see him in pain! _As the thoughts circle my mind I feel my hands begin to warm, and watch on as they begin to glow a brilliant, golden hue. I wrap both of them around his wrist, Cato wincing once more at the contact. My breathing begins to stabilize as I notice Cato's face begins to relax, sighing in painless relief. I look down to my hands again, the glow slowly disappearing. I lift my hands and examine the skin below – golden, as is the rest of his body…the hair grew back as well. _I guess if anyone has a balding problem…_ I smile wide, a strong gust of wind reaching my now exposed teeth, chilling the gums that hold them in place. Cato merely smirks.

"The burns… Wha-" I laugh to myself, smiling widely, acknowleding that, yes, I _can_ do something right for once. "They're gone!"

"Of course they are, you idiot," he replies. He finishes off his water bottle like nothing's happened. "Our powers come from our emotions…you just need to figure out what those emotions are. It's different for everyone."

"And what are they for you?" I ask without thinking about _not_ asking.

Cato looks down to his lap, deep in thought. He clearly knows, I'm not sure if he wants me to know or not. Before I can apologize he speaks, softly. "Anger," he says, opening his right hand as a slightly larger flame than last time appears. He looks at it for a few seconds. "Resentment," he continues, only this time repeating the steps with his left hand. He creates a rainbow shape of brilliant yellow, orange and red fire, using both flames as left and right bases, in full control of everything. I stare bewildered, not for the first time today, as the shape remains for half a minute: the form of it all almost malleable as it's elongated on one side, then the next, one arch bending slightly more acute than the other, embers flying forward, and back, me enjoying myself enough for the both of us, if Cato's scrunched-up face is anything to go by. Suddenly he collapses both hands together, extinguishing the fire once more.

"Memories usually do the trick," he says, rubbing his palms together, shaking his head. I dare not ask what memories he uses. Not yet, anyway.

"Yeah, well, if our abilities came from the same source I'd just need to think of my _bitch_ of a step-mom." Cato throws his head back, barking out the, quite possibly, loudest series of chuckles I've ever heard in my life. "_What? _I'm _serious_. She even wears these really weird floral dresses, _all the time._ They're hideous." That only makes him laugh harder, causing him to hold onto his stomach, like it'll sprint away from him at any time. I laugh a bit to myself; a little because, _really_, those dresses were disgustingly 80s, and not the cool part of that decade. But mostly because I'm laughing_ here_, with _Cato_, away from my depressing past. I can actually_ be_ someone here – someone worthy of protection…of love. I'm not sure when the last time I've ever been this happy was…a year or two, or five, or fifteen. I'm thinking the latter. I feel that's changing though, slowly but surely.

Cato ceases his laughter for a whole second to ask: "Is that the first time you've cussed in your life?" Laughter: resumed. I punch him in the arm, playfully, because obviously with all my might I wouldn't be able to make a dent anyway.

He wipes the tears from his eyes as he regains his composure, a sweet blanket of light-heartedness softly covering us. He sighs to himself a few times before I break the silence.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I wonder aloud.

There goes the light-heartedness, out the window, speed of the bullet with a name on it.

Cato scrunches his face up once again, much similar to the expression he held while describing the emotions he calls while setting somebody's entire being on fire. "_Nice_?" he yells, any sort of affection in his tone now completely gone. Realization covers his face almost instantly at the fact that, yes, he was, actually being "nice." Like that's a terrible thing worthy of life in prison.

He grabs his now empty water bottle in his right hand. The plastic immediately melts as it falls into itself, the wrapper bursting into flames, before it completely disintegrates into nothing. "You don't _ever_ call me nice," shaking his head. "Ever," he says with finality before stomping away, but not before he comes up to my half-finished water bottle and kicks it, powerfully, fire erupting from the ball of his foot, engulfing the plastic, vaporizing the water inside, when it finally disappears before it hits the ground half a field away. _Fire: passionate. Dangerous. Check._

An unknown figure chooses this as the best time to say hello, with loud footsteps, making their way over to my side, but not before they attempt to greet Cato. "Hey-" she gets out, taking in the fact she's being completely ignored by the brute as he speedily walks to the building, shoulders tense, legs stiff. The woman finally makes her way to me. I look up to see Katniss smiling down at me in her black nylon training suit with navy-blue stripes accentuating the insides of her arms, and both sides of her body, all the way to her ankles. A bright-white "12" rests on the top-left of her breast area.

"Hey," she greets me. We've only grown closer the longer we've been here. She's been training a great deal, for the front lines. I know she's learned a few tricks by now, and no matter how many times I've asked she's dead-set on not showing me any of them, until absolutely necessary. I wonder if it's because she knows my lack of improvement, and feels guilty, almost.

"Hey," I answer back, dejected.

"There's a meeting in the main hall in a few minutes. We all need to be there," she advises me. I'm really not up for it, but what choice do I have?

"Fine," I reply coldly, not wanting to further the conversation. I love the girl, but now is just not the time. Though, as I figured, she brings up that _fuck._

"So…what's going on with Cato?" she asks, before we hear a door _slam_, making me flinch. I bring my legs inward, to my stomach, resting my chin upon my knees. I think for a moment.

"Nothing," I say, as I rise to my feet and slowly stride toward the building, leaving Katniss in this massive duststorm of angst and confusion.

* * *

The room is jam-packed with bodies of every shape you can think of when I arrive. Apparently I'm the last to, _surprise._ After ditching Katniss I had to simmer off a bit. Most of the faces I catch I don't recognize, but they clearly recognize me. I take my place near Katniss, hesitant. Heads turn and eyes widen as the door closes. The place is almost void of light, the only ways we're able to see each other are coming from the open windows surrounding us and the projector above, currently displaying a map that encompasses the whole front wall with Haymitch standing close by. I'm just catching the end of Haymitch's current sentence as I tune in.

"…of _great _importance." Haymitch and I lock eyes; he gives me a brief nod and continues his speech. He's stood in the front of the hall, smack-dab in the middle, clearly the focus of this meeting. "Now, remember – these districts are _not_ our enemies. On the contrary, we want them as our _allies_."

I look around the room once more and find Cato with his large body standing off to Haymitch's side, golden hair sticking up, arms crossed, chin raised, muscles barely contained by his District 12 uniform, like Katniss', only with bright red stripes instead of her dark blue. I try to look away but I can't. I want so badly to change this man's opinion of me, for some reason unbeknownst to me. He scans the room, and before he can see my staring I quickly look back to Haymitch, _clearly_ paying attention.

"Now, the fun part begins. I will be assigning you all into groups of three individuals. The group with the most collective offense will travel to and negotiate with the more…unwilling districts." By now I begin to doze off, knowing I won't be acknowledged any time soon. I notice the walls around me are flooded with anti-tribute propaganda, emblazoned by big, bolded words such as "Fear The Abominations," falsely recorded paintings of other tributes mercilessly murdering innocents. _I doubt that's ever happened. _The last poster I come to reads "Death To All Tributes," with an older-looking, white haired man, standing on top of a _pyramid_ of dead bodies, many whose faces have been obscured – but the ones that are detailed…those are terrifying. Faces distorted by pain, fear, while this man raises his chin high, his profile clearly an accomplished one, with the heavens shining down on him. The painting is not exactly old, but not exactly new either – its creation probably a decade or two before now.

And then, I know. I finally realize who this man is.

It's Snow.

"And finally, we come to our Alpha Group," I hear Haymitch say. I look back to him, attempting to hide my discomfort from analyzing that poster. I struggle to regain my composure. Haymitch's eyes are glued to the sheet of paper he's holding before his eyes go back to scanning the room. "This group will visit districts 11, 4, 2 and 1-" he touches each district on the wall-sized map as he calls them out "-in that order. These districts are the ones I mentioned earlier: the ones that will take some effort into recruiting, but are also the most crucial to get on our side. The group, which consists of…" He glances back to the paper," …Cato, Katniss Everdeen, and Peeta Mellark-"

"_What?!_" I hear myself and Cato yell before I realize I'm even doing it. "You can't do that!" Cato continues, veins nearly popping out from his neck, ready to wrap around and constrict the life out of our so-called "mentor."

"He's right, you said the groups with the most offense would-"

"_Hey!_" Haymitch interrupts me. "Will you two shut up for a minute?" Cato and I look to each other, both clearly confused and quite possibly pissed, before Haymitch continues, pinching the bridge of his nose before moving the hair from his eyes. "You're right. I said that. And I meant it. Cato and Katniss are our best fighters. Most offense: check. _You_-" he points to me "-will make sure that our greatest means of offense live to see the end of their mission. Defense…" He draws a check in the air with an index finger, finishing his explanation.

"But-" I start, only to be interrupted again.

"Does anyone have any questions?" Haymitch asks the hall, clearly ignoring me.

"_But_-" I try again to no avail.

"Anyone else? No? All right." I feel Katniss rub my shoulder with a comforting hand, not totally working, of course. But it helps. I turn to her and give her a weak smile, which she returns. "You all have your assignments. Be prepared to leave at dawn." We all turn to exit the room before Haymitch addresses us once more.

"And guys…don't fuck this up."


	4. Is that a fucking dragon?

**A/N: **Hey guys. It's been a week or more, not sure, but here's another chapter - I'm honestly surprised I got this out in the time I did with all the shit that's going on. But I'm getting too into it now to stop. I had so much fun, and learned a shit load for writing this chapter. Stories about the myth of the ring around the moon, dragons...you'll see. I thought that, oddly enough, one of the myths behind the ring was completely relevant to this story.

**Please leave a review! **I don't care if it's a single-worded "cool" or a 5-page essay - I just wanna know if people like what I'm writing. I'll continue, regardless, but only 3 reviews from last chapter... That honestly broke my heart. You'd be doing me a huge favor.

**Reviews are lovely. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter Four: **_"Is that a fucking _dragon?"

It's almost half past two in the morning now and sleep continues to elude me. Tossing and turning, my mind is ruled by the events of the previous day, threatening to be my undoing. After receiving our assignments yesterday Cato and I nearly had it out…

"_If you fuck this up, Mellark, I _swear_ you will regret the day you ever collapsed in the middle of fucking nowhere."_

"_Well, maybe I already regret it thanks to you, you _asshole_!"_

I'm not exactly sure how things escalated so fast and the way they did, with Katniss almost giving the prick a black eye, but there's no changing the past now. _Unless someone's got that ability…? _No. I've made my bed and all that jazz. I'm confident in Katniss' abilities, as well as Cato's, though I'd be the first to deny it. I have no doubt we'll get this done…that is if Cato doesn't kill me before someone else does.

After giving up on the idea of a peaceful slumber, I toss my warm, suffocating blankets toward the foot of my bed, throw some District 12 issued sneakers on and exit my room. The square lights overhead emit _extremely_ bright, sterile-white light. My retinas hate me right now as I stroll down the hall, cut to the right, and continue on walking, pass several doors – no doubt containing the more eased-minded individuals, deep in sleep – until I reach the two rusted-metal exit doors and swing them open.

The weather outside is just…perfect, I'm not sure how else to describe it. The wind is strong, but not strong enough to blow someone over, just to gently rustle the leaves a bit, swirling them in the air playfully before me. The air is cool, I'd guess around the low 70s, the sensation slowly putting my mind at ease. There's a good amount of thin, wispy clouds in the sky, chugging their way away from me, mile by mile. I spot the moon, full and luminous, softly shining through a small cluster of grey puffs that cover it.

I look around the area, quickly spotting a run-down, abandoned train car sitting in the middle of an open field. I jog towards it, climbing the old, decrepit ladder on the side that's facing me. The second to the highest bar has completely rusted away, but I notice just in time to avoid it, and carefully climb atop the tin roof. I make my way to the middle of it all and take a seat, my feet dangling over the corner, hands clasped together in my lap…just relaxing, letting my mind conform and surrender to the _ease _and _serenity _of the nature before me, the persistent gusts of wind taking with them the troubling thoughts that meddled with my already wavering constitution. I look up to the moon and a rather warm chill runs through my body, my spine being the focal point. The small ring around it brings forth a memory so far forgotten I'm ashamed I've let it drift to such a state of non-existence. I stretch my arms out, palms flat and wide on the chilled tin below, as I soak up my surroundings and fade away to a short-lived time filled with love and innocent happiness.

"_Momma! Momma, look!" A three year-old Peeta exclaimed, pointing passionately to the hovering yin-yang in the sky. There's something off about it, something he's never witnessed before in his life. There's an all-encompassing ring around it, like a bright-white halo, further elevating the sheer awe of the object. "Why is there a circle around the other circle?" curious little Peeta asked. _

_Lily stepped forward to her son, kneeling upon the swaying blades of grass and wrapped her small but safe arms around little Peeta's waist. She put her chin upon his shoulder, speaking straight into his right ear. "That, my gorgeous little boy-" she said, giving Peeta a number of soft, loving kisses on his neck while tickling his small belly, causing him to laugh happily, "-is the ring around the moon. Would you like to hear the story behind it?" Little Peeta nodded carefully, not too enthusiastically, knowing if he'd been a bad boy recently he would not be told such interesting stories, and not remembering if he had been good or bad made him cautious._

_His mother began, looking back up to the moon. "Long ago, there was a kind man named King Henry, who loved the people he ruled so much that whenever they were filled with sadness, he would be, too." She looked down to Peeta and said: "That's how much I love you, you know." They both smiled before returning their gazes to the sky._

"_One day, King Henry felt incredibly sad, for reasons he could not explain. Soon afterwards he learned that a mean, grumpy old Ogre was disrupting the peace in his kingdom. The king knew he had to do something about it._

"_But he could not do it alone. A weak, thin but brave and noble man named Robin volunteered to help the king, as they needed to sneak into the Ogre's cave, take hold of the chest that kept his heart, and destroy it._

"_As the king fought the Ogre with all his might, Robin crawled into the cave. Robin noticed that this was where the Ogre stashed all the gold and jewels he stole from the king's people – yet, he did not take even one gold piece. He was a man of his word, and soon enough, he exited the cave, a chest heavy in his arms._

"_King Henry was quickly growing tired from his fight with the Ogre, and just as he was to utilize the last ounce of energy in his body, Robin came into sight, with a beautifully decorated box. Robin did not care for his own safety as he ran toward the Ogre, sliding beneath the beast's legs, waiting for the final blow from the king to come. Sure enough, the king took one more mighty swing, destroyed the box, and ended the life of the cruel Ogre." Peeta clapped his meaty little hands at this._

"_Peace was restored to King Henry's land, but he had one more task to accomplish: return all the wealth that the Ogre stole from his people." _

_Little Peeta turned his head, looking to his mother and asked: "Why didn't he keep the money?"_

_Lily frowned, over-exaggerating her pout before answering. "Because that would be wrong of him to do – the goods stolen did not belong to him before. Why would they belong to him now?" Peeta slowly nodded, understanding her point, and turned his gaze back to the moon with the ring._

_Lily continued. "After returning all that was stolen to their rightful owners, one thing remained unclaimed: a simple golden ring. After being asked by his court if he wished to keep the ring, King Henry answered 'No,' and gave it to the church to feed the needy._

"_That very night after the king righted all that was wrong God came to him in a dream."_

"_He talked to God?!" little Peeta asked. His eyes widened, wondering how that was actually possible._

"_Yes," Lily answered. "Do you want to know what he said?" Peeta nodded. "He told Good King Henry that because of his unselfish deeds he would place a ring around the moon, so that people even now would forever remember all the good he'd done for his people," she concluded._

"_Wow," Peeta replied, fascinated but such a tale of pure righteousness. An idea quickly popped into his tiny head as he returned his gaze to his mother. "Do you think I could do something like that, mom?"_

_Lily laughed, heartily, before answering. "Yes, Peeta." She gave him a longing kiss to the temple. "I know you will."_

I open my eyes as the memory comes to an end. It's considerably colder outside now, so I pull myself into a ball, still sitting straight up, to warm my body up. I feel a tear slowly run down my cheek before I take a sleeve of my jacket and wipe down my face, sniffling the now liquid-esque mucus to the back of my nostrils, where it belongs.

The smile that was now plastered onto my face…I just couldn't get rid of it. Any memory of my mother was instantly followed by some sort of intense happiness and gratitude. And, regardless of these _unusual_ circumstances, this has been one of the most thrilling experiences I've ever had. This whole situation was like something out of a _ridiculously _rich fantasy novel: super humans with superpowers, villains plotting to rule the world, and – what next – _dragons,_ maybe? It was all so surreal. And who'd be the protagonist in this intriguing story? Surely not Cato – better not be Cato – he's a little too cooky to run this show. It could be Katniss, now that I think about it. She's strong, she's independent…though she can be pretty cold sometimes. Well, with what Haymitch said earlier, something about the power of _my_ soul, could it be-

"Peeta?" I hear a voice from below, tossing me from my thoughts and back into reality. It only takes me a second to realize who the voice belongs to.

"Hey, Katniss," I reply, unsure of where exactly she is…? But I'm guessing she heard me, if the body climbing the ladder is anything to go by. She walks over to me, greets me again with a small smile as I give her one of my own. She sits down beside me, to my left, with legs criss-crossed and back slightly hunched.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asks, the answer obvious, looking up to the moon, much like I had been for the past…how long had it been now? I consider telling her the story behind it, but quickly decide against it. I don't need a pity party right now.

"No," I answer. We're both silent, our individual thoughts stunting further conversation for a few minutes, before she states:

"It's a beautiful moon, tonight."

"Yeah, it is," I agree, simply, because, really, it is. For a moment I think of my father: where he is, what he's doing – is he eyeing the moon like I am? Is he even _safe?_ "Katniss?"

"Mhm?" she mumbles as she turns to me, her single braid of brown hair gracefully coming into view, resting gently upon her left breast.

"Since we've arrived here, have you ever thought about…you know…home?" She stares at me with squinted gray eyes and fully pursed lips, which alone answers my question.

"Every day." She pauses for a moment before staring back to the moon, adding: "And every night."

I think to myself for a second, and realize _that's_ probably why she's awake right now – not mulling over the tension she has with some extremely handsome boy like I am – and how she was looking to get away from her thoughts by escaping into the world around us...and now I've gone and screwed that up. She's truly worried about her family. A quick wave of shame rushes through me, like a gust of wind that's just one degree too cold, and sets my body aflame with goosebumps. What a terrible person I must be to only_ just_ _now _think of my amazing father after almost a _week_ of being here, and the less-than-desirable situation he must be in.

"Do you think we'll ever see them again?" I ask her with pleading eyes, hoping she answers with a more assuring thought than I've got. Instead, she looks down to her lap and replies with a question:

"Do you?"

A tear threatens to wet my already tear-stricken cheek, but I manage to hold it in. "No," I say, my voice faltering as I shake my head.

That's clearly not what she has in mind as she looks back to the sky and answers, softly. "I just can't afford to think like that."

* * *

Before I know it dawn comes around like an owl in the night, patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike its prey with its swift movements and deadly talons. I throw on my District 12 suit – a suit exactly like Cato's and Katniss' in design, with the only difference being the orange streaks that run across my body like lightning bolts, instead of Cato's red or Katniss' blue – and toss myself out of bed, not surprised by the total lack of sleep my mind and body are now suffering with.

I grab the doorknob of the door, and as it slowly creaks open, I find myself welcomed by the noises of non-stop chatter and heavily stepped upon concrete flooring. As I could have guessed, half of these people are just faces to me, zigging and zagging back and forth, almost bumping into one another. Honestly I'm a little intimidated by this dangerous flow of traffic, but I reluctantly bring my right foot forward to join it, before a hand grabs me by the arm, and turns me around to meet two very-identical looking boys – boys that are roughly my age, if not a year older.

"_Peeta?_You'rePeetaright? I'msogladIfinallygetthechancet omeetyou-" the boy on my left, with giant red hair styled almost exactly like Cato's stammers out, before the boy next to him places a hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eyes.

"_Breathe, _Jhett. Breathe," he advises the now still boy, his hand slowly peeling from _Jhett's_ shoulder as he catches his breath.

"Sorry," he says, solemnly.

"That's all right," the not-yet-named boy reassures him, nodding before catching my eyes – they widen at the scene before me before I get a chance to tell them not to. "I'm Brett," the red-headed boy with a more relaxed hairstyle says, out-stretching his hand. I take it in mine, apprehensively. "And this is my brother, Jhett," he informs me, though _I could've guessed that, _as Jhett cheerfully smiles and raises his right hand in more of a "I swear on the bible…" type of gesture than a wave before quickly bringing it back to his side, mouthing the word "Hi!" excitedly.

"I'm-"

"We know, you're Peeta," Brett interrupts me. He points his thumb at Jhett. "Jhett's the one that found you and Katniss," he lets me know.

"I'm _really _fast," Jhett says, leaning in close, with me actually understanding him this time.

"I can see that."

"He was carrying me around at the time – we were scavenging for supplies when we found you. If it wasn't for us, you'd probably be in some Victor-ridden hospital right now." He pauses. "Or dead."

"So why did you-"

"I can read minds," Brett says, lightly tapping his skull three times. "Your subconscious told me about your powers." _Well, that's a little bit creepy. _"Yeah, it can be," he adds, and before I can ask him what he means – _oh. _"There's no time for chit-chat. You're already late as it is. Jhett will take you where you need to go."

"Sure, but-" And for the second time that day – third if you count the preemptive – I'm interrupted, but this time by a pair of lean, tones hands and arms that pick me up before I realize they do, with a slight struggle, and whisked away. The ride is a blur – literally – with nauseating streaks of light and color flying past us, second by second. I look up to meet Jhett's expression: all teeth, a smile hugged by young wrinkles, with nothing but pure bliss and bright light shining through his eyes. I can easily say this is probably the happiest guy I've met in a long, long time. I wonder how he does this without dry heaving every other time, but I don't ask.

Before I know it I'm standing outside the meeting hall from yesterday, being gently placed down to my feet as Jhett says his goodbyes. "You're gonna do great, Peeta," he assures me, his blue eyes sparkling with sheer honesty, his smile that never seems to fade away, the one that could single-handedly light the darkest of caverns, leaving me at ease.

I'm taken aback by his completely genuine gesture. "You will, too, you know," I say, and _really_ hope it to be true, because if we lose too many people like Jhett…

He firmly nods before a noticeably very important thought comes to him, and adds: "Oh! I almost forgot – I went to your house and got something you're probably gonna need for your mission." He brings his hand up as I open my mouth to question him, halting my speech – he's clearly learned a trick or two from his brother. "It belonged to your mother?" he asks more than states, clarifying what it was he – _wait._

"You-"

"Cato has it." I scowl. "I was going to give it to you this morning, but with you being late and all I wasn't sure I'd see you." Great. It's probably torn to shreds by now. I can't be angry too for long, though, with just the mere thought of knowing I'll see it again soon fills me up with an unexpected amount of confidence.

"Thank you," I say. "That's probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Don't mention it," he replies, that _stupidly_ perfect smile on his face. We stand there for a moment, eyes locked with hope and appreciativeness. In a quick blur of movement I feel his lips brush my cheek briefly before he retracts them and hurriedly says: "I like your room." And he's gone.

I bring up my right hand to touch my cheek…I can feel the moisture of where his lips met my skin. I know my face is beet-red, and I couldn't be more glad I'm not surrounded by too many people right now. A small smile finds and stays on my face. As I turn around to enter the room my eyes find the face of the one person I wish I didn't have to see right now.

Cato's standing a few feet away, gorgeously scarred face in a fixture of complete shock and rage, eyeing me down. The smile that contorts my lips runs away, _fast_. I can't help but hold his intense gaze, his mouth opening and closing, before I notice what it is he's holding in his hands. He shakes his head, slowly, _snarling_, before throwing my mother's charm bracelet onto the ground. He's looking right through me, or past me, or _into my soul_ for all I know, as he rushes by me, knocking his shoulder forcefully into mine, before entering the meeting room and leaving me there, breathless, _thoughtless_. I shake my head to myself briefly, not fully understanding exactly what had just transpired, but accepting that I probably never will.

I don't dare to think about how "well" we'll be getting along come the next few weeks.

I walk over to the spot Cato was just standing, where he so casually dropped my mother's heirloom, and pick it up, examining it for any damage. All seven charms still hang peacefully from the band. No scratches, no missing pieces... It almost looks like it's been cleaned?

After rolling it around in my palm a few times I'm satisfied it's as it was when I last saw it, on my nightstand, lying near the photo of my mother. It's not that I'm ungrateful that Jhett went out of his way for something like this, because I am, _tremendously,_ but seeing one without the other – the picture – just hurts. I make a mental note to myself, though: _Jhett, I owe you. Whenever we meet again._

After securing the bracelet around my left wrist I make my way to the slightly ajar door – _Cato didn't slam it this time? _– push it open and walk on in. To my surprise there are only three people gathered around in discussion: Haymitch with his sloppy hairdo, Katniss with her usual stoic self, and Cato...being Cato. They're talking in slight bushes when I enter, Cato being the first to acknowledge my presence, begrudgingly, before Haymitch and Katniss both look up from the map spread out before them on the wide, circular table.

"Well good morning there, Sleeping Beauty. Got all the gunk outta your eyes yet?" Haymitch greets me, slightly annoyed I'm guessing.

"No, I think I still got a bit left. Think you can check for me?" I play along. That gets a small laugh out of Katniss, Haymitch merely shakes his head before continuing.

"I was just detailing your partners. Care to join?" I nod, walking forward to stand beside Katniss – Cato and Haymitch are on the other side of the table. I take a look at the map: it's covered with red, green, blue and white circles; black lines that could drag on for miles, with some that intercept the other or don't touch at all; and numerous head shots of men and women, old and young. I know I'm completely out of my element so I just stay silent while Cato and Haymitch do most of the talking. Or arguing.

"If we take the path that leads through this forest, _here_, we'll get there in half the time," Cato explains.

"Son, you do know what lies in that forest, don't you?"

"No, gramps. Why don't you go and explain why the toughest three – two tributes-" Cato corrects himself. I glare at him. "-can't handle a few sprites?"

This goes back and forth for some time, Cato always looking for some sort of shortcut that Haymitch always claims to be suicidal. "We've got a mobile emergency room!" Cato yells at one point.

Katniss and I just ignore the two of them after awhile, acknowledging the fact that this could go on for God knows how long, before we strike up our own conversation.

"You nervous?" she asks.

I'm hesitant in my answer. "Not at all."

"Peeta, you know you can't lie to me, right? You're like an open book. Way open. 428th page open," she adds, trying to get a rise out of me. "Do you remember when we were eight years-old and you tried denying the fact that you were in love with that Finnick Odair guy?" She finishes rather loudly.

Cato looks at me for a second too long, eyes filled with something that I can't quite place, before he looks back and I answer, diplomatically, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

* * *

"So, we're all settled, then?" Haymitch asks the three of us, with the four of us forming a small circle with our bodies outside the main entrance of District 12, backpacks full with camping gear, maps, food and money we'll need for our journey hung over our shoulders, me adjusting mine as I can just barely hold the weight of it.

"Yeah, I think so," Cato answers. "We'll hit 11 in a few days' time if we stick to the plan."

"Sure," Katniss chimes in, not having any trouble with her pack, which is far beyond my comprehension as hers is probably a little bigger than mine in size. I notice everyone's glance turns to me, expecting a response, it seems.

"Uh…okay?" Cato shakes his head.

Haymitch breaks our circle, walks up to me and rests his hands on my shoulders. "There's nothing to worry about, kid. All you have to do is sit in the back and look pretty." He slaps my cheek gently a few times. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," I answer. Even if we're not on the best of terms, I'm not gonna let Cato die, especially Katniss, all because I'm not ready to back them up due to a little fear. "I'm ready."

"Good," Haymitch says, backing away from us, leaving the three of us standing side-by-side looking at him. He half-heartedly salutes to us; Cato shoots him back a salute of his own, stiff and powerful, before he turns around, puts his right middle finger and thumb into his mouth, and whistles, _so loudy, are my ears bleeding?_

"Ziggy!" he calls out, looking to the bright blue sky that still holds a bit of red and orange as the sun has yet to fully rise. Within a few seconds I see a small shadow on the ground – a long, narrow body with two small wings – appear before my feet. As I continue to stare at it, it only grows larger, and _larger,_ until it finally comes into view, right above Cato's head, and flaps it wings repeatedly to reach the earth.

"Is that a fucking _dragon?_" Katniss calls out, the shock as clear in her voice as it is in my body. I take a few steps back to avoid being eaten.

"No, this is Ziggy," he answers, calmly. "He's a Cuélebre." _Ziggy_ slithers its way directly in front of Cato, stretching out its – _his? _– head, looking for a few soothing pets from his master. Cato gives him a few before opening his backpack, fumbles around with the inside a bit, and throws Ziggy a piece of rather large meat. Ziggy lets out a clearly appreciative shrill before catching it in his _enormous_ mouth, swallowing the meat with as much as two or three chomps.

I take that moment to fully digest Ziggy's appearance: he's a dragon, if I've ever seen one; his beautiful, forest-green scales shining brightly in the morning sun, the reflection of each just barely blinding me to death; two large, _dangerous_ horns accentuate the right and left side of his skull; he has no feet, or hands – just a snake-like body to slither around with; his wing-span must be a good 15 feet, at least. At that point I notice a…_a saddle?_

"Cato, we're not riding around on this thing, are we?" I ask, nervously, though I've got a feeling I already know the answer…and I'm not going to like it.

"Of course we are," he answers.

"Right, of course…" My stomach does a couple of flips as it seems like the breakfast from an hour ago desires to find its way onto the ground below.

"Oh, come on. He's harmless," Cato assures me. Ziggy straightens up then, stretching out his wings to full capacity, and _breathes fire_. "Well, sort of. Isn't that right my little Zig-meister?" As Ziggy comes back down to get fawned over by his master, the sun catches my eyes, directly, so I bring up my left hand to block it out. Before I know it, Ziggy lets out another glorious shrill as his beady, reptilian eyes catch my body, and slithers at an enormous speed over to me. Though, he's not looking at me, exactly, but at my…

"He likes shiny things," Cato adds. I shake my head, confused, as Cato points to my left wrist. "Shiny things."

"_Oh._" Taking my left hand away from blocking the sun I raise it to Ziggy's face, apprehensively, so he can examine my mother's charm bracelet a bit more. He seems fascinated by it: tilting his head from side-to-side, curiously; sniffing it with vigor; and finally, shooting out his snake-like tongue, which tickles the crap out of me, causing me to fall to the ground in a heap of intense laughter and paralyzed limbs. Ziggy only inches closer to my face now, licking my nose, my neck, _the_ _insides of my ears_.

I hear Cato scoff to the side of me, clearly not enjoying the attention I'm receiving from his beloved pet. "He doesn't usually get along well with others," he says.

"Well he gets along fine with Peeta," Katniss adds. Her voice causes Ziggy to cancel his actions, as his eyes take hold of her body. He growls, loudly, which causes Katniss to growl in return.

"See."

"Where the hell did you get this thing?" she asks. "It's not every day you just wander into a dragon."

"We stole him from the capitol, four years ago," Haymitch chimes in. "He was just an egg then."

"And now he's my little Ziggy-wiggy," Cato coos, scratching Ziggy behind the ears with both hands. It seems he's forgotten we're still here as an amused smile contorts my lips, and as Cato catches my face: "Shut up."

* * *

"Well, I guess you're off then," Haymitch yells to us. After about a dozen times, all three of us are now "safely" on Ziggy's back: Katniss and I gripping tightly to the brown, leather-saddle beneath us, our bags tied down to the sides of it, while Cato holds on to the reigns that are tied around Ziggy's two horns.

"See ya later, 'Mitch," Cato booms out. "And, _up__!_" And with a lash of the reigns we're slowly ascending, the ground becoming less and less tangible as I hear Haymitch cry out:

"_Stay alive!_"

"Holy sh-" Katniss nearly falls off as Ziggy flaps his wings a single time more, and we're rushing forward at a speed no car I've ever been in can achieve. I catch her by the arm at the last second, pulling her close to me, as our combined fear begins to coalesce with each other into a great big ball of foreboding and death.

Cato glances over his shoulder to us, amused. "Oh, come on, party poopers! _Yeah!_" he screams, and with another whip lash, we're flying even faster, the ground and all that's inhabits it nothing more than blurs of whites, greens, blues.

"Peeta. I think I'm gonna be sick."

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there you go! Google Cuelebre if you want a clear look of little ole Ziggy. They've gotta get around some how, so, why not a fucking dragon right? I loved writing Peeta's memory scene, that was a lot of fun to do, and read up on. I didn't know that story existed. And their journey finally begins.

So, anyway, in my previous AN I announced I'll be updating one story then the next, but I'm not so sure now. I'm getting too many ideas from this so I think I might keep it going until I OD from it all. Is that all right?

**Ciao.**


	5. Welcome to Madora Forest

**A/N: **Hi-_YAH. _Judo choppin' those updates. This was pretty fun to write. There's more action here than any chapter before it, so of course it was. I borrowed a bit of an idea from one of my favorite PS games, Legend of Mana. Just a bit, though. I hope the conflict wasn't solved too much in a rush. And cliff-hangers are always awesome.

I think I've personally PMed all of you who left a review - Thanks again. I'm super happy that I got nearly triple the amount of reviews from last chapter than the one before that. Maybe it was just a good one? Idk. But I loved it.

To the guests who reviewed, thank you, thank you, **_thank you_**. I think most of you stated that the memory scene was kinda long or unnecessary. But, trust me, they're all necessary. Peeta's mother will play a vital role in this story come later. What that means I won't quite tell you. And pay attention to what she says. She knows more than she's letting on.

Two more vital characters find themselves in this chapter. Huzzah!

Okay, now, onto the "good" stuff! **Please review! And, of course, enjoy (my crazy use of italics).**

* * *

**Chapter Five: **_"Welcome to Madora Forest."_

The wind shows me no mercy as we soar through the air, slicing giant, floating puffs of molecules into halves. I can hear the harsh effects of the invisible force all around me, though I can barely hear anything at all with the speed we're flying at. Luckily I'm lying flat on my back, eyes closed, protected by the structure of Ziggy's saddle, and even more luckily Ziggy flies with his entire body in a perfectly executed straight line. When we first set off Katniss and I were forgotten a few times as Ziggy wiggled his muscular torso about, practically throwing us off board. Now he's adjusted to our presence, which I am more than grateful for.

We've been at this for three days now. Tensions are...a little bit high.

"Are we there yet?"

"Katniss, what are you, _five_?" Cato screams back, barely audible due to the wind rushing by our ears. If it weren't for his large frame and even larger personality we'd probably not be able to hear him.

"Well, I wouldn't have to ask if we just 'stuck to the plan.' We've taken too many breaks already; we should've been there by now."

It's true. Our itinerary didn't exactly include the fact that Ziggy wasn't strong enough to carry the three of us, along with our bags and saddle, for more than a few hours at a time. We were forced to rest a couple times more than planned, though I never paid much mind to it.

"_You_ fly around at 60 miles an hour with 500 pounds on _your _back and tell me how that feels," Cato snipes back, turning his head to meet her glare with one of his own. Ziggy shrills in agreement.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before we set out!"

"Maybe you should have brought your flying pet instead! Oh, wait – you don't have one!"

"Well maybe you should have trained him for this sort of thing!"

"Oh, yeah? Maybe I should have-"

"_Guys_!" I let out before Cato gets a chance to continue on, finally raising myself to a sitting position. They both look at me, fire in their eyes, agitation on their faces, waiting for me to say something so wise, so _eye-opening_ and _peace-worthy_. "Shut _up_."

"He/she started it!" I hear both of them yell, pointing accusingly at each other, blaming the other for their own irritations. I take in a deep breath and slowly exhale – something I've seen my father do for the past few years after dealing with Maybelle on a constant basis. _What would he say_?

"Look – I know we're all a little tired and grumpy, but we can't let that get in the way of what we have to do here." They both stare at me blankly, blinking their eyes a few times in anger, silently telling me "get to the point already."

"If we keep at each others' throats like this we're never gonna make it. Can't we all just get along?" I plead.

"_No_!" They scream in unison.

I roll my eyes and lie back down. "I give up."

* * *

After about two hours more of bickering and going on about who could kill the other first I feel the wind around me slowly grow weaker and weaker until I feel my whole body rumble around. I open my eyes – they dart to and fro, back and forth, analyzing the sky above. The clouds aren't passing us by at the speed they should be. My hair isn't being thrown around. _We aren't moving._

"We're not flying anymore, are we?" I think aloud.

"No, what gave you that idea genius? The fact that my feet are touching the ground? Get your lazy butt up and off my Ziggy," Cato barks out.

"Yes, your majesty." I sit back up and am greeted by a wet piece of thin flesh tickling my cheek. "Thanks, Zig."

"Where are we?" Katniss asks as I give Ziggy a few calming strokes on the neck before hopping off and joining the two of them a few feet away. "Don't tell me this is the forest you and Haymitch were arguing about," Katniss complains.

"Maybe, maybe not," Cato replies noncommittally. "Either way we're here, so get used to it."

"Wow. This place is gorgeous," I manage to breathe out, my brain racked by sheer awe. Countless trees, trees that rise higher than any I've seen before, block out the sight of the sky, like they're yearning to reach the heavens. The brush around me is full and thick, concealing the life it holds as it's ruffled about from time to time. Numerous vines wrap around each trunk in an almost loving way, nearly suffocating the wood beneath it. Varying sounds of life can be heard, from far and near, not that I'm having any idea as to how each sound is made. The only scent my nostrils receive is that of some intense _purity_, like no human has stepped through these woods for longer than I'd like to imagine. Everything is so _green_ here. "Gorgeous," I reiterate.

"Yeah, try telling that to the countless amount of men who've disappeared in here," Cato says.

Alas. There's always a catch. "So this is how you're gonna do it?" Katniss asks accusingly. "Kill us both off in some 'freak accident' so you don't have to deal with us anymore?"

"Please, Katniss," Cato begins, his voice laced with something much more dangerous and deadly than venom. "If I wanted you both dead I wouldn't be too indirect about it."

"All right, so what _are_ we doing here?" I ask, trying to get this conversation going somewhere other than a fatal outcome.

"We're not too far from 11 now, and we can't just swoop down on it riding a dragon," Cato informs us while petting Ziggy. "Sorry, buddy." Ziggy shrills. He unties our bags from the saddle, tosses Katniss hers, me mine, and throws his over his shoulder before turning to walk away from us, saying, "We're going the rest of the way by foot."

"In a forest full of...what did you call them, _sprites_?" Katniss questions him. "Wasn't there another way?"

Cato gives her a look – an almost pitiful, disappointed one. "Don't tell me you actually believe in those things. They're just bed time stories the locals used to tell their children before putting them to sleep. Besides, the mountains that'd we have to take otherwise will add another day of walking. This cuts straight through to 11."

"I didn't exactly think dragons existed until a few days ago," I remind him. "Why wouldn't sprites?"

Cato merely scoffs. "Fine. Let's say they exist. Myth says they don't show their faces to humans, anyway."

"Yeah, that only makes it all about _fifty times creepier_," Katniss provides, thinking the same thing I am, I'm sure – _is this kid daft_? I nod in agreement with her statement, which causes Cato to scoff and walk off without us, saying, "Are you two gonna complain all day or are we actually gonna get some shit done?" _Well, can't argue with that._

* * *

After about an hour of walking with Cato burning our way through the thick vegetation, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. _Again._

"Guys. I'm pretty sure I've seen that rock before," I warn them, pointing at a decent-sized yellowing boulder with a good amount of moss covering it. "I'd recognize it anywhere – the first time I passed it I made a point to myself that it looked like..." I pause before finishing, bracing myself for the laughter to come. "Rodney Dangerfield?" Cato and Katniss stop in place ahead of me and slowly turn around to meet the serious gaze they were not expecting.

"Peeta, that's impossible. If we were going in circles we would've seen all the piles of ash Cato's left behind. Not to mention the obvious trail?" Katniss starts nodding her head, attempting to get Cato and I in agreement with her. Cato only shakes his head – not in disappointment this time but...fear?

"No, he's right," he begins, turning his gaze to the forest floor. "I made that same distinction about forty minutes ago."

"Right? Don't those two circles there look like his bulging eyes-"

"Okay," Katniss cuts me off. "Even if we were going in circles, wouldn't there be some sort of evidence? Our tracks?"

I shake my head and we all continue walking. "I don't know, but I have this weird feeling that we're being wa-" A vine catches my right foot, gravity assisting in its attack as my body plummets to the ground with a nice solid thump.

Cato chuckles without stopping or looking back. "Smooth, Mellark."

Katniss rushes to my side, kneeling down. "Peeta, are you all right?"

I push myself up slowly as she holds me steady upright. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Whatever this damn forest is up to I'm sick of it. The sooner we get out of this hellhole-" Cato begins, voice trailing off into the distance before being able to finish his sentence. Katniss and I look around in all directions for any sight of him, but to no avail.

"Cato?" I call out. We wait a few seconds for a response. Nothing. "Cato?" _Nothing._ My heart finds its way into my throat as my body goes on auto-pilot, assuming the worst - boars? A bear? I'm running at full speed in the direction I last saw him, Katniss right behind me if the panting and crunching of leaves is anything to go by. Before long we catch sight of him in an open field – or, an object that looks suspiciously like him. Katniss comes to a halt beside me as we both fight to catch our breaths while staring at this..._statue_ of him, exactly as we left him: disheveled hair, a customary smirk on his face, legs in mid-stride, bag hanging over his shoulder. A Cato perfectly frozen in time...and marble.

"No..." I hear myself say before all the fight in my body leaves me, and I drop to my knees.

"What is this? Some kind of joke?" Katniss lets out, voice full of disgust. "Where is he?"

"Katniss..." I say without saying anymore, my explanation clear.

"But...but that's not possible," she laughs out. "He's a statue, for God's sake!" I feel a tear slowly creep down my cheek. We haven't even made it a day and Cato's gone. I didn't even get to say-

Suddenly I feel my hands grow warm, much like they do when-

"Yes!" I scream out, regaining control of my limbs as I jump back to my feet and place my hands onto Cato's stone-cold, beautiful face, both hands resting on the respective cheek. "Please work..."

"Ah, so he has the healing touch," a voice rings out behind me. I look to Katniss and sob out, "Well, yeah, you were there when I first used it," I remind her.

"Peeta, what are you talking about?" her previous expression of shock now turning to confusion.

"But you just said-"

"I hope he knows it won't work." This time I hear the voice while I look at Katniss – her mouth's not moving.

"Did you hear that?" I ask her, slightly fearing that I might be going a little off the handle here, and let go of Cato's face.

"Hear what?" she asks, still confused.

"Oh my. I think the lad can hear us," another voice rings out. I turn to look behind me and, sure enough, there the culprits are, hovering in mid-air-

_Hovering in mid-air_? My eyes widen more than I thought possible as I catch the sight of three different, rather small bodies. Though, what they lack in size they certainly do not lack in ferocity with the raw power they emit. They're covered in elegant pieces of fabric that look like thin, tiny scarves covering their whole bodies. Each of them are styled almost exactly the same way, the only difference being the color of the fabric they wear, and that the older..._being_ up front also wears a bejeweled hood and many, many necklaces. With ears and noses as pointy as my step-mother's personality it was hard to take them seriously.

"And see us too, apparently," the one up front says, in a rather condescending tone.

"You're... You're the sprites," I manage to piece together.

"Peeta, who are you talking to?" Katniss asks, looking around, her eyes flying past the sprites for a second before scanning further. So she can't see them. "Cato just said there were no-"

A thin ray of light appears and shoots its way through Katniss' chest, exactly where her heart would be – if she weren't now stone.

"I'd rather not hear the ending of that sentence," the – I'm assuming – leader says, _disgusted_, before the bright light from the tip of her index finger slowly fades away.

"Stop that!" I cry out. "These people are my friends! Why are you doing this?" I ask them, pleadingly.

"We hate humans!" a much younger-looking sprite screeches, the one floating off to the left of the leader.

"You should not be able to see us," the sprite on the right comments, her eyes squinting at me in confusion, clearly wishing this statement to be true.

"Well, I can and I don't know why, but can you please turn them back now?"

"After what that _ogre_ of a man has done to our forest?" the leader scoffs, pointing at Cato. "I think not."

"But we- We didn't mean to-" I sigh and pause to collect my breath. "We were only trying to pass through. _Please_. We would have never acted that way if we knew you were being hurt."

The sprites consider this for a moment, all masked with very hard, unreadable facial expressions. "Well, he does have the healing touch," the sprite on the right, in yellow, points out in a whisper. "Those who possess that ability are said to be pure of soul."

"That must be why he is able to see us," the leader, wearing green, adds, also whispering.

"I can still hear you, you know."

"But he is human! Surely we cannot trust him," the younger sprite, covered with red, spits out.

"_Enough_!" the leader booms out, turning her head to the younger sprite, causing my body, the trees, the _earth_, to shake.

"My name is Alcina," she begins, voice deep and raspy, yet serene, but still holding onto that condescending tone she seems to be permanently fixed with. Before I can understand how her voice is able to exhibit so many different connotations she continues, authoritatively. "I am in charge here. Humans have been nothing but unwelcome on this sacred ground for centuries. You have nothing and no one to blame but yourselves, with your malicious cruelty and unfathomable greed." She pauses to curiously eye me for a moment. "What makes you so different?"

"I'm truly sorry for what my kind has done to you. Whatever they've done is inexcusable. But you can't hold every human accountable for a few bad eggs," I explain. She gives me a confused look, clearly not understanding my not-so-literal use of words. I'm desperate now. "I'll do anything to prove myself, and to free my friends." We hold each others' gaze for a few seconds. "_Anything_."

Alcina seems amused by my pleading, though beneath those crystal eyes flickers a sad sort of understanding. "Very well, then," she gives in. Alcina raises her arms in a seemingly harmless way, acknowledging the nature all around us. "Welcome to Madora Forest."

* * *

"Madora was once the ruler of this forest," Alcina informs me after I ask about the name of the area. We walk – she glides – side-by-side through the forest. "She was a great treasure to our world. Madora was kind. Madora was wise. Madora was always open to our friends and enemies alike." She pauses. "She was taken from us only a few centuries ago." _Only_? She looks to me, blankly. "We are going to need your help to get her back, young healer."

"Yes. Right, of course," I mumble out. "But why? And what do you mean get her back?" To say the least,_ I am confused._

Alcina turns her head forward again. "I have gathered the council. We believe, with your assistance, it is possible for her to return to us. Long ago she was trapped by an evil sorcerer, cursed to live forever at the bottom of Madora Lake. He was looking to obtain our power, but he failed after we waged battle, and we took the opportunity to trap him alongside Madora. We must get her back. The life of the forest counts on it." She pauses, pursing her small lips before continuing. "Her spirit still yet lingers. I can _feel_ it."

* * *

The whole sprite community has gathered as we all travel to Madora Lake, after they effortlessly hovered Cato and Katniss to some far corner of the forest. I let them guide the way as I clearly have no idea where it is we are going, besides the fact that there's some sort of giant lake, _somewhere_, and I'm supposed to help them do…_something._ It's all very vague.

I find myself alongside one of the sprites from earlier – the more neutral one in purple, with long, wavy, flowing brown hair. I've still got a few questions and I'd rather get them out of the way before something disastrous happens.

"Hey," I greet her, hopefully not too informally, _how does one exactly approach a sprite_?

She looks to me, hesitantly. "Hello, Peeta. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier – I am Orla, daughter of Alcina." For a second I question to myself _how_ sprites can birth daughters – if they _are_ birthed, anyway – seeing as I've yet to come across a male sprite. I suppose the question is better left unasked.

Taking that as a success, I continue. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions? About what we're supposed to do and exactly why humans are sort of forbidden here?"

She keeps to herself for a moment, raising her chin in thought, before answering: "I suppose it could not hurt."

"Awesome." She gives me a weird a look. "Um, I was wondering…what did we do to you that made your community hate us so much?"

"The sorcerer we are about to encounter was once human," she begins. "We did not always hate your kind. We once lived side-by-side in peace. This sorcerer was not the first and only human to try and take our power from us." I look down to ground, ashamed. "Kael was the final attempt. From then on we do not tolerate your kind." She turns to me and…_smiles?_ "Besides you, of course."

"I appreciate that."

"Our mission now is of great simplicity: join together and hope our combined powers are enough to drain Kael's sorcery from this lake – enough to release Madora."

"Wouldn't that also release…you know…"

"Yes, it will." A lump in my throat forms and I try to gulp it down, with great effort. At that moment the lake comes into view. I stop in my tracks – it's _huge_. It's as large as it is wide, the water dark and almost _foreboding_, not how I had expected to find it. As if on cue, Orla states: "If you are wondering if Madora Lake has always appeared the way it is now, the answer is no. Once Kael's magic corrupted the pure water below, the earth around it also became corrupted."

"How are we supposed to fight him off, then?"

Orla laughs. _Sprites laugh?_ "Oh, child. You do not yet understand the workings of this world. Kael's magic has been dissipating over time, ever since his entrapment. A simple wave of the hand will surely get rid of him. Lifting the curse, however, means overcoming the power of his magic from long ago." I sigh in relief, paying attention more to her former statement, and receive a curt nod from Orla before we span out to encircle the entire lake. Fog is now settling in, _un_settling me.

I stand beside Alcina now, who takes center-stage before the water. She opens her tiny mouth, and what comes out is more than anything I could have expected. A language foreign to me – and long dead, I assume – booms out from her tiny, thin lips. She pauses at every other sentence, informing the others on what it is we are to do. When her speech comes to a close, she looks to me and smiles.

"Now, Peeta. All you must do is what we have seen you do before: bring forth your healing touch."

I shake my head in worry. "I'm sorry, Acline, but I'm not sure if I can. I haven't exactly mastered the thing yet. Plus it didn't work on Cato."

She nods slowly in understanding. "That is only because I wished against it," she pauses, a thought gracing her features _delightedly_, and she smiles wider. "What were you feeling when you came upon that-" she catches my despairing features "-_man-friend_ of yours?"

"I'm… I'm not sure. I just didn't want to see him that way. I thought-" Before I finish my sentence, the all-too familiar sensation overcomes my palms, the golden light shining through my clenched fists.

"I see…" Alcina says, _smugly_, smirking to herself.

"What? What do you see?" I get out, hurriedly. This causes her to silently chuckle because _damn these laughing faeries,_ before turning back to the water.

"All in good time, young man. When one has lived as long as I the signs tend to become obvious."

"Signs? What_ signs_? Signs of _what_?"

"Now is not the time for that, young man. You will soon find out for yourself." Before I do it myself, each and every sprite brings their hands to the ominous, cloudy water, plunging them in wrist-high. Alcina looks to me and nods. Unclenching my fists I imitate their actions, and soon enough, the lake begins to glow, beautifully, as its true form comes back before my very eyes. _No other human has seen this lake in centuries_, I think to myself. I smile, widely, taking that as a good sign, before I'm flooded with memories, _memories that aren't mine._ I see a man – I don't know him but I can _feel_ that he's no good. He's setting fire to the forest, tossing aside four sprites at a time with a flick of his wrist, and now he's kneeling before the lake-

Woosh, woosh, _woosh_! Suddenly two bodies come flying from the middle point of the lake, crashing together a single time, before the body that closely resembles that of Aclina hurdles down right behind her. _I'm gonna guess that's Madora._

The man with long earrings on both ears, and short, dark hair, who was spat forth from the water roars as he lands, harshly, on his ass, a few feet away from me.

"You _will_ pay for this-" Before he finishes his sentence, and figures out what hit him, Kael is turned to stone with a quite literal flick of the wrist from Alcina. _I suppose there's no room for exaggeration, here._

"Silly man," she says.

* * *

"Thank you for your concern and assistance, young human," Madora thanks me. I and the whole sprite population are gathered around, with me in the center. It's clear now that she and Alcina are, _somehow_, related, if the features are anything to go by. She's covered in the same garb as the rest of the sprites, with the color of purple, _of royalty_, I think to myself, becoming silently awed as the Queen of the Faeries, I dub her, addresses me. "You are most kind," she adds. Before she explains why that is said she taps at her noggin. _Great, not another mind reader. _She eyes me, curiously. _Oh._

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. I met one a few days ago and I felt slightly…violated," I clarify.

"That is understandable," she chuckles out. Her tone resumes its serious nature. "We are forever in your debt. We will return your friends to their natural state, and grant you safe passage from this forest." It takes everything in me to not let out a squeal, or a jump of joy at this good news. "I am aware of your mission, and its grave importance. I apologize on behalf of my community for accosting you," Madora says. "Though I am sure you know better than to destroy another forest for the purpose of convenience, yes?"

"Yes," I say softly. "Thank you," I add, simply, with not being able to say much more.

"If you are ever in need of our help do not hesitate to call on us. We will gladly aid you," she says, nodding. "Farewell, Young Mellark. And Gods bless." With a snap of her fingers a bright light emerges, causing me to turn and close my eyes to shield myself. When I open them her and the entire sprite community has vanished. I furrow my brows in confusion. _I wasn't just day-dreaming, was I?_

"Peeta?" I hear a familiar voice call out from behind me. I turn around, fast, and catch sight of an equally-confused looking Katniss and Cato, both analyzing the foreign area before them.

"Katniss!" I yell out, completely overjoyed, as I run to her and crush her in a near-fatal embrace. She's caught in surprise as we tumble to the ground, and I can't help but _laugh _and _laugh._

"Jesus, Peeta. _Let me go_!" She says, laughing now, as I get up and take her hand to assist her.

"What the_ fuck_ just happened?" I turn my gaze from Katniss and catch sight of a slightly pissed, but still confused Cato, fuming. I stare at him for a moment too long, his gorgeous face contorted. He raises an eyebrow in question, shaking his head. Before I realize what's happening I find myself wrapped around his frame – his _warm_, _fleshy _frame – my head burrowed in his firm chest, quietly sobbing.

"Get a hold of yourself, Mellark," he scolds coldly, attempting to push me off, but I don't budge.

"_God,_ you beautiful ogre of a brute," I hear myself whimper out. "Thank God." He slowly and awkwardly returns the hug, his big, strong hands finding their way onto my shoulder blades. He gives me a moment to collect myself before I push myself from him, looking him in the eyes. A smile, more _genuine_ than I've ever seen before in my life, contorts his lips.

"Did you just call me 'beautiful'?" he asks, silently laughing to himself, but still _smiling._ I can't help but smile back before we're interrupted by-

The forest in front of us quickly falls in on itself, with branches snapping, trunks disappearing. Within seconds we're presented with a clear, clean path to, _I can only guess_, District 11. "Thank you, Madora," I softly say to myself as I slowly approach it.

"Peeta, wait up!" Katniss calls out from behind, the bag on her and Cato's shoulders noisily rumbling around before they catch up to me. "Aren't you gonna let us in on what just happened?"

I smile to myself. "I'll tell ya on the way."

* * *

"So then out comes Madora and Kael, flying from the water," I continue. "God, you guys should have _seen _the look on his face when his ass met the ground. And _then_ he saw all forty of us," I add, laughing to myself, with Cato and Katniss laughing to themselves, imagining the situation.

"He was probably shitting-"

Before Cato can finish his sentence, a large ball of- of _fire_ comes blazing past us, nearly taking my head off with it as I dodge it, falling to the ground. I hear something _crunch_ at the impact, and _I think I just broke my leg._

"_Fuck! _Peeta, come on!" Cato screams, grabbing me by the arm, pulling me up, my body now resting over-top his muscular arms as he carries me, bridal-style. _Well this is embarrassing. _He starts running at full speed, still down the path the sprites laid out for us, when another fireball flies towards us. Cato nudges his head to the side, precisely, with a husky grunt, and the ball of fire goes flying in the direction of a nearby tree, colliding into it and dissipating, but not before leaving behind a scorched trunk, as the boulder the fire was carrying _thunks_ to the ground, dead.

"Sorry, Madora," I mumble. Cato and Katniss keep at this pace for some time – Cato constantly tossing his head to the side, controlling the frequent balls of fire with a mere glance, expertly, and I can't help but be _insanely impressed_ and reluctantly _turned on_ when it all comes crashing down. Literally.

For some reason Cato's body comes to an abrupt stop, and I feel myself fly through the air before my body collides into the ground, and I'm-

* * *

"What the _fuck is this_?" Cato says, voice strained by physical assertion and confusion as he takes in his form. His whole body is completely engulfed with thick sets of vines, slowly crawling up his torso to meet his neck, trapping him in place. He glances forward to where Peeta lays on the ground, no doubt unconscious, as fear slowly roots in his heart.

"I don't _think_ so!" With a solid grunt the vines are turned to ashes, and Cato brushes himself off. From behind him he can hear the sounds of something shattering. When he looks back he notices Katniss has done the same as he has, only freezing her vines instead of incinerating them.

Katniss sighs. "What _was_ that-" Another assault of vines takes place – this time the vines are much more thick and constricting, causing Cato to desperately gasp for breath, not able to call upon his ability to save him this time. The same goes for Katniss.

"State your business here," a voice rings out. The voice is strong and masculine, clearly not threatened by the two – three strangers, if you count the unconscious one – before him. Two people appear from the brush, recently concealed: both dark-skinned, though the male is considerably dark than the little girl. The man is similar to Cato in body structure, if not slightly bigger. His muscles bulge from his green suit, his arms-crossed confidently, hands covered in black leather gloves. The girl is young, but not afraid, as she holds out her right hand, palm flat-out in front of Cato and Katniss, controlling the vines that hold them in place.

"Let us go, you _fucks_!" Cato screams, threatening. "I'll burn these things again!"

"There's more where that came from," the little girl informs him, causing the man near her to huff out a chuckle.

"You_ little_-"

"Cato!" Katniss interrupts him. "Shut up for a second!" Cato shoots thousands of daggers at Katniss with his eyes, before acquiescing to defeat.

"Please, we're from 12," she continues. This gets a rise from the dark-skinned man who raises his chin in thought. "We've come to ask for your help," she pants out.

The man thinks for a second, then nods to the girl beside him, before the girl rests her outstretched palm to her side; vines that are almost noe crushing their bones slowly retreat into the earth, releasing Cato and Katniss.

"That's all you had to say," she says. "I'm Rue," she continues, then points to the man beside her. "And this is my brother, Thresh."

* * *

**A/N: **And there it is. I've been mentioning to some people about Rue via PMs, and here she is! I hope I've not disappointed. Her power was clear to me from the conception of this story.

Someone long ago, when I first posted this, asked me to keep a chart at the ending of each chapter, detailing the characters and what power they hold. Well, here you go:

Peeta - _**healing touch**. _Katniss - _**cold and ice manipulation**._ Cato - _**fire and heat manipulation**. _Rue - _**plant manipulation. **_Thresh - ...see for yourself next chapter!

Review and THANK YOU BYE.


	6. District 11

**A/N: **All right. So a little bit of information before ya read this. You guys might be wondering what kind of world this story lies in. Let me just clear that up - our world. Well, there's no Panem, it's still America. Panem will be Pres Snow's final destination for the country._  
_

Each district typically near or at the area they would be if America still existed in the books. Like District 11 residing in Georgia, for instance. Imagine living our lives, then this whole Victor-Tribute thing growing silently under your nose, and your thrust into it. There ya go.

I made Chaff a bad guy. He's an alchy like Haymitch in the books, I believe, as well as his friend. But I needed a bad guy to take the blame. Sorry, dude.

**Anyway. Get to reading, already._  
_**

* * *

**Chapter Six: **_District 11_

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump_. The sound and feeling of my heartbeat throbbing within my skull slowly but surely brings me to consciousness. The pain on the right of my head is nearly unbearable, and the screeching from...Cato, I think it is, isn't helping much. "Two fu..ng days an...still out cold! These...upid leaves a...n't d...ng shit!" he screams.

I grunt out loud without meaning to, and instantly I hear the screaming cease – now that's a relief. The clattering of footsteps on soft ground fills my ears before I hear Katniss call out my name.

"Peeta? Peeta, are you all right?" My eyes open on their own accord, and my head's throbbing hard now, _when will that stop_? My vision's blurred – I can barely make out Kat's face, as there seems to be four of her circling above me, all eight worried eyes and four sets of pouty lips analyzing my condition. Slowly they start to converge – there's only two of her now, and her grey marbles are really quite pretty.

"Hey, Kat." My voice is weak from the lack of use and comes out dopily, like I've had my fair share of Novocaine for the day. "You look really good with four eyes- _Ow_!" She smacks me upside the head for that. "Don't I have some sort of concussion? What's wrong with you?"

The final doppelganger slowly merges with her actual self, and it's a good thing I won't be getting hit anymore. She smiles smugly, rolling her eyes before straightening her back to stand. "It's nice to see you're okay, buttmunch."

My head throbs again, incessantly. "God, what the hell happened? I feel like Cato put on even more muscle, if that's at all possible, and punched me in the head about six times." Not making sense of my own explanation I choose this time to take in my surroundings, and what I see...is not what I expect. Besides the glance-stealing, arm-crossing, naturally pissed off boy of a man named Cato, "Where are we?" There are trees, so many trees, and they're healthier and taller and stronger-looking than any I've ever seen. "Are we still in that forest?" I wonder out loud – because, really, there isn't that much of a difference between then and now...other than the nameless faces and numerous buildings – might as well call them huts – made out of wood before me.

"Yeah, Peeta. This is District 11." A tiny but sure voice catches my attention, and a girl by the same description approaches me. "Hi, I'm Rue," she greets me, holding out her small, dark and delicate hand, and I tell myself not to crush it as we shake. "You've been out for awhile now. We're glad to see you're all right," she beams.

I nod in agreement and thank her for her kind thoughts. I rise, slowly, still lying down though, noticing I'm covered with a wide array of varying leaves and plants and the like. I brush them off before bringing a hand to my skull, the dry, hairy and crusty flesh beneath it warming in temperature, the injury rapidly closing itself, and I think I've finally got a hang of this.

"Whoa... That is _so_ cool," the little girl – Rue – says, chin slowly meeting the earth, and I can't help but smile at her innocence. The headache is gone so I place my palms on the dirt, wondering why I'm outside when I could be recovering in a nice shack, and attempt to push myself to standing before my right leg gives out and I'm back on the ground. Cato's the first by my side, and he gives me a pained look, and I know he regrets me seeing it – but it's still there. Katniss follows, alongside Rue and a taller, darker, tremendously muscular man. He looks unimpressed.

"I broke my leg, too? What's next, my spinal cord?" Both hands now, dirtied from the earth, cover the swollen appendage, and in a few seconds' time I'm back on my feet, the people around me giving me space to breathe. Besides Cato, that is.

I raise an eyebrow at him, smirking, that tells him I'm all right and he backs off reluctantly, and some of the pieces are now falling together concerning him. That's for another time, of course.

"How long have I been out?" I ask no one in particular.

"Two days," the unnamed man states. He raises a previously crossed right arm in greeting. "Thresh."

I return the gesture with a slight nod. "Peeta. Sorry for the inconvenience. If I'd known we'd be attacked by flying, massive boulders on fire I would have brought my own."

"Yeah..." Rue shrugs her shoulders. "Standard safety procedures."

"We were expecting you guys earlier," Thresh points out, huge arms still crossed. "You should have come on time to prevent something like this from happening." _Well. I'm sure he and Cato must be best friends by now._

"At least no one got hurt," Katniss says. "Well," continues, looking at me and shrugging. "You know what I mean."

"Good to know I'm so well-looked after." Rue lets out a laugh, and she's standing by Katniss now who's smiling down at her, and the connection between the two is almost nauseating if it weren't so cute.

We all bounce around on our feet for a bit, other dark-skinned people passing us by, as we stand around in our little circle, at a loss for words before Thresh sighs and speaks up. "Let's continue this inside, yeah?"

* * *

"So, wait – let me get this straight: _you_ two run this place?" Cato asks, confusion coating his unbelieving voice, his hand pointing an index finger to Thresh who sits directly across from him, then to Rue who's sandwiched between Thresh and Katniss. Rue shrugs. "Why?"

"Well," Thresh starts off before he turns his head to Katniss, who merely glares back at him. He pushes his chair out and stands, when he-

"Hey, what the hell do you think- _Ah_!"

Cato launches from his seat. "You put her down, or _so help me_-" Thresh laughs at his unfinished threat as he holds Katniss in the air with one hand, effortlessly, her body appearing to hover horizontally in the air. I'm more or less awestruck by the sight, though Katniss doesn't seem too pleased as she thrashes about like an angry toddler in his palm – an angry toddler screaming profanities. He pumps his arm up and down, clearly just showing off now.

"I think they get it, Thresh," Rue says calmly. Thresh nods, places another hand at Kat's hip and slowly brings her back down to the ground. Thresh screams out in pain, and by the looks of things she's brought a heel down onto his foot as he kneels to the ground and caresses it.

"We're the only people like you guys here. The others..." She looks down to her lap, a dark sadness coming over her. "The others weren't so lucky."

Katniss puts a hand on the young girl's shoulder. "I'm so sorry." Rue nods, avoiding eye contact as she wipes at her eyes before giving us a faint smile.

"What? _That's it_? We come here for reinforcements and all we get is a twelve year-old girl and a...a fucking _rhino_?" Cato says with anger in his voice, which should have been expected, really.

"Don't you have any manners?" I scold him, locking my eyes with his. "These two lost their family and you're pissed at them?" He scoffs and sits back in his chair, arms crossing again. Thresh is back in his chair now, glaring at Cato with his eyes, but he's smiling.

"Sorry, pretty boy. Beggars can't be choosers."

"Who's begging? I'm not begging." I jab Cato in the stomach, mouthing a silent but stern "Shut up," which he listens to, miraculously.

"We'd be honored to have your assistance," I tell them.

"Oh, trust us – we don't need no flattering to join the cause," Thresh replies.

"That's good, because I'm not too good at it," I joke, which causes him to smile and Rue to laugh.

"I'll need to speak to Elder Seeder before we go. Make sure everything's squared away and stuff," Thresh informs us. "She's a good woman. The Victors got to her parents, too, so naturally she'd be onboard to help us." He takes his leave in a rush.

"How about I show you guys around?" Rue suggests, and Cato, Katniss and I look at each other across the table, and figure what harm can that do? We all nod in agreement before she leads us outside.

The climate is pretty enjoyable now that my body isn't in shambles. The air is warm, the breeze is strong, and the trees block out the sun in all the right places. It's no wonder they took the opportunity to turn this area into a fertile farmland. There are rows upon rows of vegetation: whether they be of wheat, corn, cotton – you name it, they got it.

"How long has this place existed?" I wonder out loud, because this place seems more like a home than a training facility when compared to 12.

"Hm… As long as I can remember, honestly," Rue says. "I was born here… I grew up here." She looks up to meet my eyes, and there's such a sense of knowing and wisdom there that I'm nearly stunned. "This place is my home." I give her a smile and nod, silently. I look to the ground… Thoughts of my dad, my brothers, and even _Maybelle_ circle around me, and I can't help but miss all of them – even May, with her constantly-angered scrunched-up face that would always leaving me hurting at my sides with the memory.

"Where are you guys from?" she asks the three of us, trying to brew up some conversation as we walk across the wide-open field. There's a bigger hut near the one we just exited, and a smaller one than that on the other side, all built of wood from the surrounding trees and pure, hard labor. The logs are tied together with vines, and I figure Rue had something to do with that.

"Peeta and I are from North Carolina. It's beautiful there," Katniss replies, and I nod in agreement – a little chillier than here, and the mountains are breathtaking. Dad would tell me all the time about the trips we'd take up there when I was little…when my mother was still alive.

"Oh! I've always wanted to see the snow," Rue squeals out loud, a bright smile on her face. We come upon a small pond in front of us, to our right, and Katniss smiles wide as she grabs Rue by the arm.

"Come on. I'll show you something really cool," Kat says, and they both run to the opening of water in excitement before stopping before it. Katniss kneels down in front of it with an index finger outstretched, and quickly submerges it beneath the surface, which causes a ripple of cold to be released. The wave travels down the stretch of water and in a matter of seconds it's turned into a frozen, solid surface. Steam's rising from it, and I can't help but smile as Rue is lightly pushed onto the ice. Katniss follows after her, with much steadier steps than her little friend, grabbing onto her tiny elbows to keep her upright.

I look to my left where Cato's standing, with arms still crossed – which I should have expected. There's something off, though, and it's then I realize that he's smiling. Nothing wide or anything, and that's all right, but it's genuine and it reaches his eyes, and he looks so _soft_. A side of Cato I've never seen before. I've learned not to question him and ruin the moment as I turn back to Rue and Katniss, who are now sliding around with reckless abandon, losing their footing here and there, laughing and laughing. Katniss brings her head up, hand resting beneath her chin as she blows out a breath so light that the hidden moisture above turns into snow. Rue squeals again as it reaches her small face, and she closes her eyes to take it all in.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Cato suggests, turning my attention from the two ecstatic ladies back to him. I nod and turn around as he follows behind me, jogging for a brief second before walking beside me to my right. We stroll in silence for a minute or two, taking in the sights around us – a simple clear trail to walk on, surrounded by countless trees and brush, three butterflies flying around our heads and bodies before one lands on Cato's nose, and I'm instantly concerned about its safety. It merely opens and closes its wingspan, a beautiful dynamic of black lines encompassing wondrous shades of orange; the sides of both wings are dotted with brilliant white spots. It's oblivious to the possible – probable – danger it's exposed to. Cato's face scrunches up, with his lips pursed, and he lets the winged creature sit there as I laugh out loud and he smiles again before it takes off to join the group it was recently a part of.

"You never said where you were from," I point out after our eyes trail the butterfly's form to its disappearance. Cato looks to me and thinks for a moment, and it's then that I examine his – what must have been painful – scar, and I wish I could have been there to prevent that from happening. He shrugs nonchalantly.

"It's not important," he adds, and I can see from the pain on his face that it actually is. Something terrible must have happened to him, and before I know it I place a, in comparison, small comforting hand onto his shoulder. He doesn't reject it like I thought he would, but gives a faint smile and nods. I return the hand back to my side and we both turn our gazes to the trail before us.

"I understand broken homes," I begin. "I was only three when my mom died." My eyes find their way to her charm bracelet, my right hand playing with the different charms absently, bouncing them around. It seems unbearably heavy on my wrist and I'm almost tempted to throw it to the nature around us, have it swallowed whole. But I know I'd regret it for the rest of my life, so I drop both hands to my sides and continue.

"She was the greatest woman I've ever met. She was kind, and beautiful, and...just so loving." Cato nods along. "Nothing like my step-mom. I never thought I could hate any one person...but that's not the case anymore."

"Hate isn't a necessarily bad thing," Cato says. We look at each other as we continue walking. "Sometimes it drives you to do something you never thought you could...something you needed to do. People tend to hate for a reason, and it's not always for the wrong one."

I'm taken aback by his statement. Am I still talking with the Cato? "Wow, look at you, 'Oh Wise One.' Where's your green lightsaber at? Fetch it for ya, need you me?" I joke with him, which causes him to laugh softly and shake his head. "No, but really... I guess you're right." I sigh, reluctantly acknowledging Cato's words, letting them sink in. "If you can't hate someone like Maybelle, there's probably something wrong with you."

"Heh. Sounds like it."

"What about your parents? You don't have to answer if you don't want to," I quickly add, knowing such a topic was pretty sensitive when it came to the brute.

He shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets, sighing. "No, it's okay." He pauses in thought, and I figure this must be hard for him, talking about his family. Hell, it's even hard for me, and I'm not too bad off, come to think of it.

"My father-" he begins, but is instantly cut off by a loud booming sound that catches our ears, followed by numerous agonizing screams. Cato and I lock eyes and nod before turning around and bolting toward the communal area.

Streams of black smoke envelop the bright blue sky and I immediately think about Katniss and Rue, hoping they're not hurt, and if they are that I can get to them in time. Cato's faster than I am, reaching the once beautiful field of quiet bustling life before me. He pauses at the sight: the hut we inhabited just moments ago is engulfed in flames, along with the two beside it; people run around frantically, not knowing whether they should hide or take to the offense; there are several bodies lying on the ground, not moving an inch, and I run past a stiff Cato, shouting "Come on!" as I approach the nearest fallen victim.

She's a middle-aged woman – she's breathing, and that's all I'm looking for, before I lay my hands upon her hideously burned back. Her skin is as it was in a second, and so is her yellow shirt, which is something to keep in mind. She smiles widely at me, nodding and crying and saying "Thank you, thank you" repeatedly when I tell her to run and hide, and don't come out until it's safe.

These steps are repeated a number of times – maybe seven or eight, I don't know and I can't count much with the chaos around me. One man isn't so lucky, and no matter how many seconds or minutes my hands hover above his chest he doesn't stir. His eyes are opened wide, in such a state of horror that I can't help but close them. I hope he didn't suffer for long, or at all. No one deserves that. _Well, almost no one._

I've never thought about the limits of my ability until then. It only makes sense that I can't bring back the dead. I'm no god.

"God damn it!" I scream out loud, my forehead resting on the man's gut. My hands are covered in so much blood; the sight disgusts me, even though I wasn't the cause.

But whoever was better prepare themselves.

I pick up my head, wiping the tears from my eyes. I can feel the cold, red liquid smear over my face like war paint. And it might as well be.

Once everyone who's capable of being healed is I rise to my feet and glance around the area once again. There's less chaos now, a few stragglers left behind, but they soon find themselves in safe zones. I quickly spot Katniss and Rue standing behind a much older woman of 60, perhaps, with short dark hair, dabs of grey here and there. She's covered in green robes from head to toe – of silk, I can tell, with an unused hood resting behind her neck. Her feet are bare of any sort of protection. I slowly approach the group, wondering silently where Cato and Thresh have gone. We could really use their help right about now.

The group is standing before three different, Capitol-issue hovercrafts. The white metal of each shines profusely in the sunlight. Hovercraft A, I name it, floats in the center of the three, and is much larger in size. The craft accommodates two male Peacekeepers, one in front and the other in a separate seat in the back. There are two identical long and narrow pipes accentuating both front sides of A. Those must be the cause of the attack.

"_Hey_!" I call out, my voice barely projecting over the three crafts' noisy jets that spurt out fire from their bottoms. Each Peacekeeper now has their eyes trained on me, waiting for my next move as I join the three ladies. "What the hell do you think you're _doing_?"

The older woman, who seems to be _protecting_ Kat and Rue, turns to face me, quietly letting out, "Quiet, Peeta." The moment my eyes meet hers I can tell she knows what she's doing. She resembles Rue to a T, I add to myself.

"Seeder of 11," craft A shouts out. "You have been charged with harboring Capital fugitives. Hand them over, as well as any remaining Tributes, and no one else has to get hurt." The man in front's voice holds the tiniest bit of regret and concern that I can pick up.

"With all due respect, sir, your men killed the last few Tributes that lived in District 11," Seeder sternly calls out. I immediately look to Rue who's so tightly holding onto Katniss' brown jacket I'm afraid her nails will draw blood. "These two are not criminals," she continues. "They are travelers from the west, looking for a place to stay for a few nights." That's an obvious lie but I don't object to it.

The Peacekeepers take this into consideration as they jab at a few nobs and buttons on their crafts' dashboards. I see Seeder nod out of the corner of my eye for some reason – not to me, or Rue, or Katniss, but to something or someone behind the three crafts. I squint my eyes as they travel beyond them – there they are! Cato and Thresh are standing almost out of sight, a side of one of the last standing huts hiding their presences...to the Peacekeepers, anyway.

I look back to the keepers now, and I see a hologram of my face projected above each of the dashboards, alongside Katniss'.

My body tenses as the frontman of A speaks. "Are you telling me that those two behind you are indeed not Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark?" My heart sinks to my stomach as I realize I'm standing there defenseless, open to another barrage of missiles if they so choose to go down that route. Frontman looks back and forth between the hologram and myself, when Seeder yells-

"Now!"

_Fee-oo-wee_! A whistle. A loud whistle. A _familiar_ whistle?

Shrieks pierce the air as the one and only Ziggy comes flying down to the rescue. He holds no reserves on life or death it seems – when it comes to the Peacekeepers, anyway. Neither do the rest of my allies.

While Ziggy burns hovercraft C to a crisp I see Cato punch a flame out of his hand and onto a giant rock – well, I've seen that before. Thresh grabs onto the rock, hands covered in some really neat-looking leather gloves, heaves it above his head and sends it flying to craft B, where it lands right on top of the Peacekeeper occupying it. He rushes out of his seat, hoping to avoid his impending doom...but he's too late. The flying vehicle is unable to support the boulder's massive weight, so it goes down, hitting the ground in a blur and with a nice crunching sound. He's dead in an instant.

All that's left is hovercraft A now, the two men visibly trembling in their seats. Ziggy flies around in circles above them, waiting patiently for any signal or command. Cato and Thresh walk toward us now, with Cato yelling out "Zig!" as the two men approach us, Ziggy slowly slithering behind them. I catch Cato's eyes as he brings them back up from the ground. He gives me a sad smile and I return it, knowing exactly what he's thinking: If only there was another way.

Turning back to the remaining craft, figuring we had this thing in the bag now, time seems to slow down as the heavier man in the back raises his hand high and brings it down with canines exposed and such ferocity it's clear what he's about to do.

Send another missile our way.

The hand meets the dashboard below, and I turn my head to Cato instinctively. He's running at full speed, but whatever he has planned he won't be able to make it. I give him one last smile, turn back and brace myself for impact, placing my body in front of Rue's, hoping against all odds that she'll get through this. I close my eyes, wrap my arms tight around her tiny frame as I hear the expulsion of the proven-fatal missile come our way.

I wait...and wait. And then wait some more. I wait for so long, with so much adrenaline pumping through my veins, that I begin to tap my feet in impatience. _Can't we just get this over with_?

I open my eyes, hesitantly, and see that Kat's closing her mouth, and there's that missile, now a few feet away from me, covered in ice. I unclench myself from Rue, walk over and give it a nice solid kick, causing it to shatter to so many pieces it might as well have never existed.

"You really wanna go down that road?" Katniss asks, whom I'm not sure, until I see the Peacekeepers raise their hands slowly in a placating matter.

"They never learn, do they?" Cato adds. Ziggy's walked straight up to me and he leans down to lick my face, and of course it tickles like it always does, instantly lifting my spirits up. So I smile and pet him, and he loves it.

"Please," frontman whimpers. "Please, we were just doing our jobs-"

"Your _job_ is to kill innocent people? I think you need a new occupation, young man," Seeder says between a scoff. _Oh, I like her_.

"How did you know we would be here?" I ask the Peacekeeper. We've only been here two days – so I've heard. There's no way they would have come here on their own volition. The timing is too right.

The two men in pristine white uniforms glance at each other, not sure how to answer my question. Their hands are still raised, palms out, as they turn back to us and frontman speaks.

"We were tipped off."

"_What_?" Seeder lets out, head bowing in confusion and an attempt to understand. _Good luck with that. _"Are you implying that there is a traitor among us?" She's downright pissed now, and I don't blame her.

The man up front – boy, really, as he must only be a few years older than me – nods his head up and down so fast I'm afraid it might pop off his neck and roll down to my feet.

She shakes her head, backing up a few paces. "I don't believe-"

"It's him!" the man shouts, his left arm still raised as the index finger from his right hand points to me-

"_Me_? You think_ I_ would betray _myself_?"

"N-no, the man behind you," he replies shakily, gesturing with his head as I turn around to lock eyes with a man I've yet to meet. The rest of my group turns around too, and Seeder gasps as she also sees the man.

"_Chaff_?" I can hear the disbelief in her voice as she struggles to understand _why._

The man in the plain-black shirt stands alone before the wreckage behind him: the shacks half-way burnt down to the ground, no longer on fire though, which I'm sure Cato had attended to; the body of the man I was unable to heal off to right side. _He's done this. He's the cause of all this pain and suffering._

"How _could_ you?" she adds.

He shakes his head, and I'm guessing he's beginning to regret his extremely stupid actions. "The money was too good. I'm sorry, Seeder, I didn't know it would go this far… I'm so-"

"Take him away," she says, turning back to the keepers. They seemed to have relaxed in the past minute of accusations and betrayals. They shoot their hands back up to the sky at Seeder's fury-filled glare. "Take the keepers as well. We're done here."

* * *

"I'm gonna stay," Thresh informs the group. Rue whimpers, and he kneels down to meet her eyes, both hands on her tiny shoulders. "I need to, Rue. The people need at least one of us here. Reconstruction's gonna take some strength, you know?"

"But…I'm nowhere near as useful as you are," she speaks between pouting lips. Her eyes hit the ground. "I'm just a little kid."

"Psht, are you kidding me? You may be a shrimp, but you're the strongest shrimp the world has ever seen."

Rue's eyes brighten at this and she smiles. "Really?"

Thresh nods slowly, returning the smile. "Really." They share a brief hug, that I'm sure they'd both want to lengthen, but we all know we need to get going. "If the keepers come back, and they will, we'll be sure to let you know."

"How?" Katniss asks.

"You're on your way to 4, 2 and 1 right? We'll send a mass of messages to each just in case you've moved on before you get it. They'll understand." We all nod.

Kat, Cato and I are already seated on Ziggy. Thresh grabs Rue at the hips, lifting her up gently to seat her near Katniss in the saddle, but not before Zig lashes out his tongue at her bare legs, causing her to laugh uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry, Seeder. We should have never come. This is all out fault. We brought them to you…" I can't help but apologize, and apologize. She's already told me to shut it or she'll smack me, but the words won't stop coming out of my mouth. "I couldn't _save_ him."

"Please, Peeta, don't be ridiculous. There are only two people responsible for this, and we've already got one secured away."

I shake the tears that threaten fall down my eyes and ask, "Then who's the other one?"

"Snow," Cato whispers, deep in thought. His eyes are lost now, and I can tell where they're circling – there's the rage and resentment he's told me about.

I hope I never meet this Snow.

"Thank you for all you've done, young ones. We will pray for your safe travels."

"Thank you, See-" I begin, being interrupted by-

"And, _up_!" Cato booms out, and I brace myself for lift off.

"Be careful, Rue! I love you!" Thresh yells, looking up to the sky. Rue waves enthusiastically as a tear rolls down her cheek. She buries her head in Katniss' chest.

_Here we come, Four._

* * *

"Sir!" a young woman with midnight-black hair and moon-pale skin walks down the purely metallic corridor, each footstep receiving a _clink, clonk_, her perfectly-tied ponytail bouncing up and down with every step. The building is void of any natural light and general warmness. She hastily approaches the large man with snow-white hair who sits on an equally cold, personality-less throne. He raises his chin as the woman kneels before him.

"We've yet to receive word from the group we've dispatched to 11. We assume they've been overcome."

"Is that so?" The large, foreboding man with wide, steely eyes stands up from his throne, slowly pacing back and forth before it. "I should have expected as much."

"What do you want me to do?"

He nods in thought for a moment before turning to the girl in front of him. "How is your group fairing, Clove?"

A devilish smile contorts her lips. "We've had total success with retrieving wandering Tributes. All seventeen that were captured within the week were executed yesterday," she informs him.

"Oh good, good." He shares the smile of the young woman. "Go find them. And bring Peeta to me – alive."

Clove looks up from the ground she's concentrated on, that smile only growing wider. "As you wish, father."

* * *

**Oooo twist. Fun stuff. Tresh with super strength. Reviews are lovely.**


End file.
